When will the Dawn Come?
by SetsunaNoroi
Summary: Three heros, all of them leading hard lives. They protect, but no one can withstand a life of danger and loss without feeling the effects. After Corypheus is gone, there is rebuilding to be done and lives to fix. Can that be done with new threats and old friends that need saving? Contains slight Amell/Alistair, Hawke/Fenris, Lavellan/Varric, Bethany/Anders and other small pairings
1. The Hero of Ferelden

So I've been rolling this idea around in my head for a little while, and I decided to finally get down to writing it. I love Dragon Age, its expansive world and people, the stories it has, and the way it both rests so comfortably on the racial stereotypes made by Tolkien to be familiar but striking out just enough in order to be its own unique thing and contain plenty of surprises. There is so much of the world I adore but there are also things with characters and plots that never seemed addressed, mostly links between games. While I understand the programmers can't put a big change in the story for every decision made, its also a shame to see some questions never answered.

Where would Anders end up if Hawke didn't kill him? How did the Hero of Ferelden handle leadership before running off either to be with Morrigan or have his or her own adventures? Where will the Inquisition go next if they do not lay down their arms in a peaceful end? How did Hawke actually handle being betrayed on such a deep level by Anders, Isabella and Sebastian? Will the Calling be put to a stop, and if so, how? What will it mean for the Grey Wardens who have always lived their life with the knowledge they are meant to die? Will it lead to good changes within the order, or will it all fall to ruin?

And most importantly, is there ever a moment the hero just breaks and gives up, determined to pass the torch on to someone else and be done with it or do they continue on because they know they need to?

Seeing as we're never going to get entirely the ending we will desire, that there will always be questions, I decided to write this. Obviously it will reflect the actions and choices from my own experiences, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. It's a story I hope all Dragon Age fans can enjoy, though it also borrows heavily from a lot of the materials not within the straightforward plot of the game. Info from the codexes, outside books and comics have been researched, though I haven't been able to see it all sadly. Still, if anything gets mentioned you don't get, feel free to ask and I'll do my best to answer, unless of course it's a spoiler to the story.

To clear things up now, I will tell you the three main characters right off the bat. Origins had the mage Amell, Hawke was a diplomatic warrior, and the Inquisition has a Dalish hunter warrior. All of them are female because I tend to usually play my own gender the first time through, and the stories are (mostly) based off of those since they were the closet to my heart. It was when I was role-playing with my gut instead of trying different answers on everything just to see what I'd missed. Hell, who knew Loghain actually could have been cool? The story however is based off all the good, and bad things, these characters have done because they were in a tight spot and had to decide for themselves what was important and right. The first three chapters are more prologue than anything, just dealing a bit with certain junctures in their adventures.

That being said, there are some major warnings. This story will have sex, violence, racism, several mentions and cases of PTSD, addiction, deals with demons, bad relationships and unhealthy cases of madness. There will be high points in this story, as well as very dark and low points. If this bothers you or if you have triggers you may wish to avoid this story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bioware's Dragon Age. This is simply a fanfiction I am writing for fun. There is no profit here at all. It's simply my tribute, and the material is being used under fair use. Thank you.

Chapter 1: The Hero Of Ferelden

_'Love is ultimately selfish. It demands one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. A Grey Warden can not afford to be selfish. You may have to make a choice between saving your love and saving everyone else.' ~ Wynne, Dragon Age 9:31, Dragon Age Origins_

Solona Amell waited in her room silently as she watched the candle light flicker around her room, her whole body feeling cold. It was one of the few night she and her party was staying in an inn, the Spoiled Princess. It was odd to be here. She'd seen this place so often from the tower, in the small little shore she had often looked at out from her window and yet could never go to. Her world has seemed so small back then... but she had to wonder now if she preferred it that way.

To have seen Cullen again as she had had been so awful. Never in her entire life had she ever felt so much pain from the words he'd shouted at her. He had cursed her, shouted about his obsession in front of everyone and how weak it made him. To blame her, to ask her to kill her fellow mages, how had he really been able to do that all in a single breath?

A soft knock on the door stirred her thoughts and she stood up. Her voice caught in her throat as she called to let the person in, so she only moved to open it. She was a little surprised to see Wynne standing there, a soft look of sadness in her eyes.

"Wynne," she asked. "I... What are you doing here? I thought you would have been asleep by now."

"How could I possibly sleep now, after what has happened?" she asked before laying a hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "I wanted to thank you for what you did, and ask you if you needed to talk."

Despite the night of horror, Solona allowed herself a small smile. She couldn't count how many times Wynne had been there for her in her childhood to hold her and give her advice. She had been there in almost every moment of sadness, from scrapping her knees or losing a cookie to the floor when her cheeks had been pudgy and her eyes wet at almost everything. Solona had been a tender child and there had always been kindness for her from her teachers, but it seemed Wynne most of all. The older woman seemed to seek out the sad children of the tower, listening to woes and concerns and talking them through nightmares and so much else.

The mage had grown a lot since then, no longer crying over little things like not understanding big words in the books or when Jowan had accidentally broken her doll with a magic spell. Still, it felt wonderful to have her here, offering the same comfort all over again. She was nowhere near prideful to believe that she did not need it, especially now.

"Please," she whispered softly.

The two women sat down. The rooms were small so all that was available was the bed. Even though it was a rented room, Solona felt a little bit like a bad hostess. She should be able to offer one of her former teachers better, right? It was a stupid thought though, no doubt just her mind making up things to worry about so she couldn't focus on the real matters at hand.

"I'm sorry about Cullen," Wynne said. "The things he said were... unkind. Even more so when you think about how you two felt for each other."

"What?" she asked, her cheeks flushed so quickly it felt like they had caught fire. "Wynne, I don't-"

"You are a young woman, barely past being a child, and I am far more experienced than you," she said gently, though there was a stern look in her eyes as well. It was telling Solona not to lie, and she felt a little embarrassed at the admonishment. Her time of being an apprentice was still so close. It was instinct to simply be quiet and listen when given that look. "I saw the looks you had given him, heard the gentle inquiries to see him casually even if over something innocent like finding a book for you or sharing tea. He is young, as are you, and there were feelings budding there for both of you. It is not uncommon. Many do not realize this but to templars the Circle is just as much of their life as it is for mages. There are many who live here too, just like us, who see almost no one else out of those walls. Even though they are allowed to leave, their lives are wrapped up in ours, as we are to theirs. We stand opposed, but also together. It is a symmetry in a way, and I can promise you that you are not the first mage to find a kind templar who you trust and care about, neither is he the first templar to find a mage he can feel the same way for. I can tell you though, it is a common ending, what you saw."

"For a templar to lose that trust, you mean?"

"I do. I can not dress the boy's wounds, in his heart or his mind. I can see to yours though," Wynne offered. "I am coming with you not only to make sure you do not fall in combat, but to help support you as well. I wish to do that now."

"Thank you, Wynne," she said with a smile before shaking his head. "I... I don't think I need it though, at least not for the reasons you think."

She stood up and paced around the room and tried to think about how to express herself. Her fingers wove into her shoulder length brown hair, the longer strands tied neatly into braids and a bun to keep out of her eyes. She felt a little nervous now, confessing what she was about to, but she had to. It had been weighing on her chest so much, and she had to say it.

"I don't love him," she said, as if that were a sin enough. "I can't help but think if I did, it would have been easier and maybe I could have cared more to reason with him. I wanted to love him once. When I was in the Circle I thought about him a lot. It was never more than small things, little things. I wanted to talk to him, be close to him, but it never made it past that. Cullen never let it. Now I know why. He saw it as poison, that I was temptation and trying to hurt him. I... I hated it, hearing that, but it didn't hurt nearly as much as I thought it would have. The fact he wanted me to kill everyone was so much worse. It didn't break my heart though, and the reason why scares me."

"What reason is that, my dear?" she asked gently.

"Do you really think mages naturally fall for templars?" Solona answered with a question of her own. "Do you think it's normal for us to be drawn to them?"

"In the Circle, yes," Wynne said. "We have few choices in that kind of life. Either our watchers or our fellow mages. Perhaps that is why some of us come to care for them so often, because the options are so limited. It might also be because the templars that do what they should, protect us from those that would do us harm, seem so kind to us. Kindness is something mages receive little of, and therefore we cherish it beyond all else. They are our protectors, and it is understandable to love that."

"Alistair was to be a templar," Solona whispered softly, "and he's done so much to help and protect me."

The confession was soft, barely a breath off her lips. She didn't face Wynne as she said it, but she could feel the reaction well enough, worried and a little disapproving. Her feelings for Alistair had been growing fast and true. From almost the moment she'd met him there had been a trust there between them and it hadn't taken long at all for the feelings for Cullen to fade even if they hadn't left. Alistair was kind, sweet, funny and understanding. It'd quickly become routine for them to comfort one another in hard times, him through her changes as a Grey Warden, and her through his moments of sadness over Duncan. They'd both been there for one another, even as others joined them. All she saw was him now, like she was lost in a crowd with the lost prince and everyone else was a faceless stranger even when she should know them.

There was just a touch of flirtation now, and she liked being honest with her feelings. He made her feel safe and warm, and she told him as such. She still had his rose, dried and kept safe in a small book she'd taken with her, lists of spells and magical study. His feelings had to be the same for her, and she wanted them to lead to nice places.

So, of course he'd been there to hear Cullen's words. Of course she had to suddenly wonder if her trust in him had just been because he was, or would have been, a templar. Were her feelings simply training, trusting a templar because she should? She wasn't an idiot. She'd had good years in the Circle, but she knew others were there that hadn't, that had been treated unkindly. Maybe being First Enchanter Irving's star pupil had saved her from such things since he'd watched her so closely, but she knew it happened.

Anders, a boy a couple years older than her hadn't exactly been treated wonderfully by the Circle. Though he was a good mage and had passed his Harrowing easily, he'd always been one to skirt the rules and tried to escape as often as he could, only to be dragged back again and again. He'd never love a templar, would have fought such feelings with every breath of his body, refusing to submit to them even in that.

"I love him," she said as she turned around to look at Wynne, and sure enough there was worry about her entire expression. "I never want to be without him. I didn't know that before I went into the tower, but I know it now. Seeing Cullen, as much as it hurt, as much as I wished he hadn't had such a horrible thing happen to him, I was angry at him. Angry because of the things he asked of me and because... because Alistair heard it all. How do I go to him after that, talk to him? Is he just a replacement for Cullen, for a man I couldn't have? I don't know how to feel, and it's scaring me."

"I have watched you grow, Solona, and you are not a woman who would intentionally hurt other people. I do not think you would intentionally hurt him either, but there is potential for tragedy here, for one or both of you. You are both Grey Wardens and he is the son of a king. You both have responsibilities which supersede your own desires."

Solona almost said Alistair didn't want to be king, but that didn't seem to every matter to anyone. Was a bastard not allowed to love? This wasn't about his feelings though, but her own.

"So what do I do? Would it be wiser to end it, before it begins?" she asked, hoping for Wynne to have another side to her own argument, a side in which would encourage these feelings.

"Love is ultimately selfish. It demands one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. A Grey Warden can not afford to be selfish. You may have to make a choice between saving your love and saving everyone else. Then what would you do? You may have to end it, to save one or both of you unnecessary anguish later on."

There was no answer she could give, and it tore at Solona. The words from her mentor seemed so true, and she couldn't tear herself away from it. She closed her eyes for a moment as she brought her hands up to her face, wanting to cry like she had so often as a child.

"Forgive me," Wynne said as she stood up to hug the former apprentice. "I did not want to cause you grief. I have seen what happens to those in love though. It does not always end well. I would never wish the ending you had with Cullen on anyone, but if you love Alistair then you should know it can hurt all the more."

"Thank you," Solona said as she pulled away from her and gave her a small smile. "I think I'll go talk to him. He has to be fretting too, I bet."

Maybe it would be better to end this now, before it became too late. It twisted inside of her, but she didn't think she could ever bare to see Alistair with that kind of pain in his eyes. She could never cause him so much grief. It would kill her. Better to end it now, right?

He was in his room, shared with Sten who was already asleep. He sighed a bit at the large Qunari taking up most of the bed, but he immediately perked up at seeing Solona.

"Alistair, I need to-"

"We did it," he said as he sprang up and grabbed her, spinning her around before putting her back down on her feet. She felt a little dizzy by the action and his good mood. Clearly he wasn't fretting at all. "We saved the Circle. I didn't think it was possible. We'll have the mages' help then to save Connor. Thank you so much for doing all of this."

"I should be thanking you," she replied, unable to fight his good mood. "If you hadn't asked to go to Redcliffe first, I would have had no reason to go back to the Circle so soon. I might have missed all of that, and it could have been destroyed."

"Yes," he said, sobering a little. "I'm so glad your home is safe. I mean... well, people died. That's horrible, and I can't imagine what you must be going through."

"You felt the same, didn't you? Seeing Redcliffe in its state?" she asked him.

"Oh, yes. Well, I suppose it is my home, in some way, and I hated seeing it in so much danger but I never felt really at home there. I never felt at home anywhere, until I was with the Grey Wardens. It was a new home... and... I'm sorry. I'm trying to be supportive of you and here I am turning it around on myself again. I should really stop doing that."

"I did ask you," she said gently. "They were a new home for me too, Alistair. Like Redcliffe and the Circle, it will be rebuilt."

"Yes. It won't be the same, but... we'll save it. The two of us," he replied. He frowned for a second, looking at her, and she was suddenly conscious of the fact he was still touching her, his hand lingering on her hips. "That is... of course if you... I mean... I still think of the Wardens as my home. I guess I just think of you as my home now. Does that sound strange? I know we haven't known each other long, but we've been through so much together. Maybe I'm imagining it. Maybe I'm fooling myself. Am I? Fooling myself, or do you think you could feel the same way about me?"

It would have been wise to end it there, to stop. Yet as he looked at her with such an open hope in his eyes, she knew she'd never want to. Wynne's words no longer mattered, Cullen's words didn't either. She loved him because he was a good man, one she could cherish forever. If he asked her to march into the mouth of the archdemon itself, she would.

"I already do," she confessed before her lips met his. It was a sweet, wonderful feeling. So deep and profound it ached, and in that moment all doubts and fear fled her.

#-#

Politics were something Solona decided at that moment she never wanted to be involved in ever again. So much stress and worry, so much backstabbing and fighting, it made her sick. It seemed less like people had voted for what was right, but more for what they'd wanted personally. Vendettas and arguments, and Loghain, mad with power as he declared he'd done everything for the best of the country. How could he have claimed to be fighting for Ferelden when he had sold its own citizens to fund a civil war for power?

If it had been up to her, she might have spared him when he surrendered. It had been her right in a way. She'd fought him for Alistair, using her magic at full force to make him bow. Maybe he hadn't expected her ferocity, for a young woman to fight so hard against him, but she'd used every trick she'd had to stop him. It had been close, so close, but it had ended with her victory... and the choice, the horrible choice to let him live and go through the Joining or kill him even as he'd surrendered.

Even if it had seemed like her decision though, it couldn't have really been. One look at Alistair as he cried out his anger and protests at such a thing, and she'd known she could never do it. As the time had gone on, she'd seen a change in him. His sorrow over Duncan had turned into anger against Loghain and he'd spoken out about it more and more. Life was working so hard to change him, to make him angry at everything. Eamon trying to make him king without his consent, his own sister turning him away unless he promised her money, and in it all Solona had assured him that she was there for him. The world might be cruel, but she loved him and she had done everything to protect him from it as he protected her.

All for not. As Anora and Alistair argued to her who should be king, she stood there and felt like she should be anywhere else. A mage, and a Grey Warden no less, deciding politics? It was against every rule she'd grown up with, and yet it was happening anyway and without her consent to boot.

There was no way she could choose Anora though. The woman was a liar and a trickster, Solona knew that. Oh yes, that made her a good politician, but that wasn't what this country needed. It needed a good man who would do what was right, what was really right, for this country. Anora claimed to be the rightful queen, that when King Cailan was alive all the good things had been because of her, but Solona didn't believe it. The woman had given up power to her father, hadn't known what was happening to the elves in her own city, and allowed all of this to go too far when she should have had the courage to stop it. She'd betrayed allies instead of just ordering someone that should have been beneath her to stand down.

Anora had proven she wouldn't do what was right for the country, only for herself. Alistair would never be that selfish.

She'd given him the crown with the utmost trust he'd do what was best, never thinking of his own desires.

She might as well have given him a knife to stab into her back.

"I thought you loved me," she forced out as he told her his doubt about them, about how he would be expected to have a child and that meant marrying. She couldn't believe this. He wasn't doing this to her. "Is this revenge for making you king?"

"No, of course not. I understand why you chose me. I asked for it too. It's for the best. But at the same time, I can not avoid what it entails."

She could feel the stares of her friends on her back. It was so damn embarrassing, as well as painful. The mage saw Cullen all over again, rejecting her and taunting her with feelings that had hurt her more in the long run than they'd ever set her free. Wynne's warnings flashed in her mind and she had to shut her eyes tight to stop the tears.

Duty. Duty was tearing them apart. She couldn't have his child, couldn't marry him. After all, she was a mage. She couldn't marry a farmer under the Chantry laws, much less a king. She wanted to hit him for using the Grey Wardens as an excuse. She was of noble birth, an Amell, a family that had helped in the fourth Blight. She was sure if it weren't for the magic burning in her blood she could convince him, tell him it would be better to raise a child with the love of a family than out of convenience to take over a country someday.

She couldn't though. He would never say yes, never accept her. This was the end and if she begged it would only make her look weak in front of her companions.

"You'll be a good king, Alistair," she said, breathing in deep to force herself to say it. She would not ask again. It would feel too pathetic, but she didn't listen to his words how he'd trade it all for her. She just pushed past him, away from everyone and left as quickly as she could without seeming like she was running.

#-#

One of them had to die? Solona felt her head swim as she made her way back to her room, her thoughts exhausting her. Her stomach was sinking and her feet felt heavy, and more than anything else she just wanted rest.

Secrets on top of secrets. That's what the Grey Wardens were. To think she'd asked for this of Duncan once, before she'd talked to Jowan or been asked by First Enchanter Irving to help him expose Lily along with her friend. She'd thought only about what an honor it would be to serve, even as Duncan warned her it would be a hard life. He'd tip-toed around it so carefully, letting her know it was dangerous but not why.

This however, nothing could have prepared her for this.

Something told her Riordan would do everything in his power to keep both her and Alistair safe, but she didn't know how possible that really was. There were only three of them. The chances were good all of them could die going up against the archdemon. It was a dragon, and a powerful creature even amongst its brethren. One of them had to survive to make the killing blow, and then die for it.

When she walked in and saw Morrigan, she almost shooed the woman out before she even had a chance to speak, but something caught her attention.

"Tis you who are in danger," the apostate said cryptically, but Solona knew immediately what she meant.

"You knew about this," she said, not bothering to ask. "You knew from the beginning about the Grey Wardens."

"I know a great many things. Flemeth taught me well, after all. She's told me many things, secret things with great power. What matters is not how I know, but what I can do for you. I have a plan you see. A way out. A loop in your hole."

"What do you mean?" Solona asked. She watched Morrigan carefully. Something about this seemed... tricky. Too dangerous. Why had Morrigan not told her about this before?

"I offer a way out. A way out for all Grey Wardens so that there need be no sacrifice," Morrigan offered. "A ritual, performed on the eve of battle, in the dark of night."

"Why?" Solona immediately asked. "Why didn't you tell me about this beforehand? You were traveling with two Grey Wardens all this time, neither of us that knew. You could have told me, helped me prepare myself for this."

"Would you have believed me? I think-"

"Yes."

The answer clearly surprised Morrigan. The woman was good at hiding her emotions, except from Solona it seemed. Over the time they'd been together they had formed an odd sort of friendship. She respected Morrigan, a woman who had not needed the Circle to learn all she had, who refused to be twisted by any demon that came to them. She stood strong in front of many things Solona had been taught to fear. Solona in return gave her friendship no one else had. When Morrigan had feared her body being taken by Flemeth, Solona had gone straight to the mother to make sure that could never happen. There had been no reason to, no promise of reward, but she'd done it because she cared about her friend's, her sister's, well being.

They'd accepted one another, for all their differences. It had felt... nice. She'd believed everything else the apostate had told her. She would have believed this.

"I see. Well, I am glad for that trust at least. It makes it easier knowing you won't think I offer this as a lie," she said. "What I propose is this. Convince Alistair to lay with me tonight. From this ritual a child shall be within me. The child shall bare the taint, and the spirit of the archdemon will seek that taint out like a beacon. At this early stage, the child can absorb this essence and-"

"Get out of my room," the mage said. "Now."

"You will not let me finish?" Morrigan asked. "I can promise you the child will not be harmed. It will be reborn with the soul-"

"I don't care," Solona said as she pointed to her door. "I want you out."

"I wonder, is it because he tore out your heart. You plan to let him die in revenge?" Morrigan asked. "While I can not say I don't understand your reasoning, I would think it would be slightly petty."

"What? I have no desire for Alistair to die," she protested. "I will. I'm going to do it if Riordan fails."

"So you will let heartbreak kill you instead of him? Perhaps you would be better petty than weak."

"I can't be you, Morrigan. I know you could easily toss men aside, feel nothing for them. You're always in control of a situation, no matter what. I'm not like that," she whispered.

"You can be," she assured the other woman. "I ask only that you hear me out. If this truly causes you too much pain, you can die to your senseless glory and anguish. Know now though, I will not be there to witness it."

"The archdemon will be reborn then?" Solona asked with a sigh. It wouldn't hurt to at least know her options. "As a child?"

"Yes, and no. The taint will be absorbed and done away with, instead born with the soul of one of the Old Gods. I will take the child with me, and you will not follow. Ever. I will teach the child to respect where it came from, prepare it for its role in the world that it will one day need to take."

"What do you mean?" she asked. "What role?"

"That I will not say. The child will represent freedom for an ancient power. It will be something old preserved and saved. Is that no reason enough to do it?"

"No. It's not," Solona said. She was feeling suspicious now. Morrigan was beginning to remind her of a demon, whispering promises of all desires fulfilled if she were only to give in. She loved the other woman dearly, but this was too much.

"Then perhaps Alistair is reason enough," the apostate stated. "Think about it like this. He is a noble man, and stubborn. More stubborn than you. I have seen you give into him once when he left you, despite the fact you were hurt. I could see it. You wanted to scream, to curse him, and at the same time beg him not to hurt you further. Yet you did as he asked, said what he needed to hear. If it came down to it, would you let him die for you if he claimed it would be better? Would you leave him behind and risk the Blight spread so that you can assure his safety? He would die gladly, for you and his country."

"I won't let him. I'll be stronger this time," Solona promised. "I would never let him risk it."

"Yet you don't have to risk anything at all and neither does he," she said in rebuttal. "Even if you take the final blow, he will lose the woman he loves. For the rest of his life he will see the fact he pushed you away and you chose to die. Even if you did it for duty and no other reason, he will see it as his fault. You either doom him to die or doom him to a lifetime mourning your death and blaming himself for it. Is that what you want?"

Solona swallowed the lump in her throat, already remembering how Alistair had protested to her suggestion of doing it herself. She wasn't the senior warden, neither was she ruler of the lands. She was the most expendable. Reason had nothing to do with it though as he'd forbidden her to do so. Would they fight about it all the way to Denerim? Either result broke her heart when she thought about it.

"He'll never agree to this," she said softly.

"If I went to him, no," Morrigan stated. "You however, hold great influence over him. You can convince him this is for the best."

"Teach me the ritual," she said suddenly. "It's more than just sex, right? Tell me what to do and I'll do it myself. I'm a mage and I'm just as talented as you."

"We have never properly dueled, and so you can not say that for certain," Morrigan said as she shook her head. "It is old magic, and powerful. You have done your best to stay away from such things. You could not handle it. Even if you could, I wish to raise the child myself."

"The child is your price for helping then," she bit out. "I knew it."

"And if you had his child, what would you do?" she challenged, though her tone was gentle. "You can not have him as you wish him, and you still have ties to the Circle. I would not see them take the child, nor for you to use it to claim Alistair back to your side." She held up a hand as Solona was about to protest. "Besides, even if you are not planning on using the child as a way to make him reverse his decision about you, something I'm sure he would do, I have plans for it. Yes, that is my price. I will not hide that. You can not prepare it the way it must be, nor would you even try to if I explained it all to you. Even if you could learn the ritual in a single night, which you can not. You have the mind for the magic, but not the heart or conviction. Again, this leads me to Alistair and myself."

"You really have this all planned, don't you?" she asked. "This is the reason you didn't tell me before, isn't it? Because if I had time to think about it, I might say no or take it back later. I'm here, right before the end and feeling trapped with no options. I'll lose him either way and this solution of yours means I have to push him to you."

"I would have much preferred he stay with you, honestly," her friend replied. "It would have been much easier to convince you to save his life had he not broken your heart. You could possibly say no just to spite him. You are right. You will lose him either way. However, if he is to have a child with another woman, is it really worse for it to be two instead of one?"

There was no answer to that. It was something Solona had thought she would have to live with anyway. Was she really risking all that much? This was so selfish of her to even consider, but it was all true. Wasn't that how temptation worked though? Present someone with something they desperately needed and swing it in their face until they said yes?

"Alright," she conceded. "I'll do it."

"A wise decision. I shall wait here while you go and speak with Alistair. I urge you to be convincing."

The walk to his room was just across the hall and yet it felt so much longer. She barely heard him when he talked to her, even as he joked gently with her. She couldn't tell if he was trying to ease the mood after their argument or if he just didn't want to get into it again.

"Alistair, I have to talk to you," she said, cutting him off half-way as she looked up at him. "I need you to listen to me, and just... consider what I'm saying. Can you do that for me? No jokes. No stalling and trying to be funny. Just... I need you to be serious about this."

"Oh, I guess whatever Morrigan had to say, it's big," he guessed. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"You... you know I love you, right?" she asked him as she placed a hand on his arm. "Even now. I understand why you did what you did, but I still love you."

He fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable. He didn't answer right away before he eventually sighed and nodded.

"I love you too," he said. "Is that what this is about?"

"In part," she admitted. "I had to say that before anything else."

"That doesn't sound ominous at all. Would you just tell me already?" he urged.

"What if I told you there was a way to avoid dying when we get to Denerim?" she asked. It was important to chose her words carefully, to lead up to the truth. She wouldn't hide anything from him. She'd tell him everything, but she knew to blurt it out would be the fastest way to get him to refuse.

"You mean with the archdemon, right? If you mean running away, I can't do that... but you don't mean that do you? What is this about?"

"I need you to have sex with Morrigan," she confessed, even as it felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest as she said it out loud. "As a part of a magic ritual."

To her surprise, he laughed. A little giggle at first that grew louder after a couple minutes and he had nothing but mirth in his expression.

"This is payback, right? For all the jokes?" he asked her with a smile, though it began to fade as he saw the hurt expression on her face. Hadn't she asked him not to treat this conversation like that? Could he not even take his own life seriously? Before she had loved how easily he could make her laugh, now she just wanted him to stop. "You're not joking. You're actually serious. Wow. Be killed by the archdemon or sleep with Morrigan. How does someone make that kind of choice?"

She couldn't look at him as he chuckled again, and it quickly died.

"You're not actually asking me to do this, are you? What kind of ritual is this anyway?"

"I won't lie to you," she sighed, glad he would take it seriously now. "It will produce a child."

"What?" he asked in shock. "I must be hearing things, but are you telling me to impregnate Morrigan with some magical sex rite? This child, why would she even want such a thing? An heir to the throne?"

"It... it will... Alistair, it will carry the soul old god," she said. Each word she said only made her feel more awkward. Morrigan had explained it all much more convincingly than she could.

"Oh! Well that's so much better, don't you think?!" Alistair suddenly yelled and startled her. "Here I was worried about creating another bastard heir and I didn't even consider it might also be some dragon... god... whatever!"

"Don't you yell at me," she said softly, her fists clenched at her side.

"What?"

"I said don't you dare yell at me!" she snapped, looking back up at him with tears in her eyes. That was enough. She couldn't listen to another word. "Everything I have done for you, I don't deserve this! I am trying to offer you a chance to live Alistair, for all of us to live. You think I want you to go to Morrigan? You think I want to live with the fact I have not only lost you but I must endure you having a child with someone else? What does it matter if it is her or some future queen? I lose either way. You won't let me die, will you?"

"I... I uh..."

"No, you won't," she answered for him. "You would be stubborn and stupid and insist on doing this yourself. You'll die to keep me safe, and Anora will get the country despite everything we have done! You owe me this Alistair. I gave you my heart! I gave you my body! I gave you my trust and that doesn't mean anything to you! If you loved me, if even one time when you said that it was true, you will do this for me... or will let me take the blow. You have to live Alistair. You threw me away for the duty to your country... and you must live for that too. Either you do this... or you let me protect you one last time... but it will be one or the other."

They stood there in silence for several minutes, and this time it was Alistair who couldn't meet her gaze. She didn't feel guilty over yelling at him even though she never would have done such a thing before this. They'd always been so careful with each others hearts, but that was all long since past.

"Alright..." he said softly. "I'll do it. Where's Morrigan? Let's get this over with."

She didn't have the heart to say much when she led him back to her own room where the apostate was waiting. She didn't even listen to what they said to one another, just closed the door behind them and locked it before she slipped to the floor and shut her eyes tight. It seemed so long ago when she remembered the pain in her chest at what had happened to Cullen, how intense that anguish had been and how she'd never felt anything so horrible.

This was so much worse.

#-#

"I don't understand," Solona said as she watched Anders pace around the room. "Just what is Karl doing in Kirkwall?"

Fate had a funny way of twisting itself around. Surprises and weird events seemed to be normal these days for the Amell woman. Hero of Ferelden, Commander of the Grey, and watcher of so many charges in Vigil's Keep. Well, it wasn't much of a keep anymore. Ever since the whole fiasco with those two warring bastard darkspawn, the keep was in shambles. Though it had technically fallen, it had lasted a long time against Mother's forces, and she had been so proud of the people within it, those that had both lived and died to defend it. Even though the place was in shambles they were rebuilding slowly, this time much easier without intelligent darkspawn to worry about. She could deal with leaky roofs and broken walls as long as the few monsters they had to deal with were just roaming, nearly mindless creatures with no direction.

It didn't mean she didn't have constant new problems coming up though. It just came with leadership.

"He was transferred," Anders explained angrily as he walked around the room, wearing a hole in the carpet as he did so. "The Circle wants new blood in the tower, new talent. He's getting moved to Kirkwall, Kirkwall of all places!"

She could see why he was worried. She'd heard a little about the place from Nathaniel. It wasn't the best place for mages. Some Knight-Commander there, who made Greagoir look like a sweet Chantry sister in comparison. She couldn't remember the woman's name off the top of her head, not that it really mattered much.

"I'm afraid there isn't much I can do," she said. "If I had known before the transfer I could have gone to the Circle and conscripted him for you. If he's in the Free Marshes now, he's out of my jurisdiction."

"Don't you care?" Anders snapped, obviously worried. "You know what Kirkwall is like, don't you? What they do to mages there? It's a hundred times worse than this country and you know it!"

"Anders, will you please calm down?" she asked him as she slipped off of her desk she was sitting on and approached him, putting her hand on his arms to stop his pacing. "I can't help you if you work yourself into such a state that you go into a blind panic."

He sighed and chewed on his lip but nodded slowly. He didn't seem any calmer, but at least he wasn't yelling anymore.

"I know our... experiences in the Circle were vastly different," she said, trying to appease him even as she got through this. "I know I was a lucky one, that I didn't see some of the things that you did. I was in my whole life and never knew freedom outside. If things had been different in some way maybe I would have changed my mind."

"Look, I don't want to argue about this right now. You think the Circle is great. Woop-de-doo," Anders snapped.

"I didn't say that. I'm saying I was lucky," she corrected, doing her best to be patient. Normally she and Anders got on great, but this subject was always touchy. "I conscripted you for a reason, and it wasn't to bolster my ranks. I know you hated it there, that most mages hate it there, and this was your chance for freedom. I'm more than willing to help you, even if I can't help them all. I just don't know how I can."

"I actually... was kind of hoping you'd let me leave," he answered. "Look, before you say anything, this is important to me. Knowing Karl is somewhere like that, I can't leave him there. I have to get him out. I can smuggle him back to Ferelden and you can tell everyone he took the Joining."

"Tell them? Won't he?" she asked in confusion.

"Come on, Solona. He's too old to be hunting darkspawn. Just let him stay here as a healer or trainer or something."

"He's only in his forties, Anders," she said flatly. "Though he went gray so soon, you'd never be able to tell."

"Hey! Just because your love life has sucked so much doesn't mean you get to knock my choices," he snapped before Solona glared at him. There was a spark of hatred in her eyes, and for once Anders actually looked a bit guilty over what he had said.

"That is not to be joked about," she hissed at him, "or brought up, ever. Period. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes... Commander," he muttered.

"Good. Now back to the subject at hand," she said before she sighed and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. To think she'd once lived a life when she wasn't allowed to make a single choice for herself, now it happened so often she'd become a little too used to it. "I suppose you would leave one way or the other. Why ask for permission? It's not like the Wardens drag anyone back. After all, the Calling pretty much guarantees your membership for life no matter where you hide."

"If I go there to free him, I'll be an apostate," he explained. "Give me paperwork saying I'm supposed to be there. I can hide in a crowd, but if I get hassled, I can use the fact I'm a Grey Warden to keep the templars at bay. I'll swoop in, save Karl and be back before you know it."

"So you want me to lie twice for you," she groaned. Damn it. He was really pushing it. "I'm going to have to tell people he took the Joining and survived. Why not have him just do it?"

"It might kill him. I want him safe. I don't plan on getting him here safe just to allow him to risk dying," Anders said coldly.

"Which means I'll have to make up some story about him, not to mention tell every Grey Warden here the truth and that they need to lie too because they'll be able to sense there's no taint in him. Not to mention keep him away from any foreign Wardens that would have no reason to be part of this scheme... Anders. This isn't a good idea," she said. "Why in the world would I go along with this?"

"Because if you don't, then an innocent, talented mage is going to be lost forever," he said softly. "Commander... Solona, you know I'm not the kind that ever thought about anyone but myself, but that's changing. I want to help now, to make a difference, and I can start with Karl. Please, help me?" he asked, his expression worried.

How could she say no to that?

"Fine. Fine, I'll do it. I suppose it's not that much to ask in the long run. Not like anyone from Kirkwall can come get me anyway, and Karl was a good teacher to me. I don't blame you for wanting to save him too, considering everything."

"So you'll do it?" he asked excitedly.

"I'll have the papers written up by tomorrow, so you'll have time to pack," she said before she went to her desk. "Do me a favor though, say good bye to Justice before you go."

"Justice?" he asked. "Why? Is he okay? What's wrong?"

She couldn't help but be a little touched at his obvious concern. He was so caring despite everything. He'd been so selfish before in the Circle and after she'd met him again. It was a good sign he was beginning to care about people other than himself, and those two had begun to develop a real bond.

"I... I don't know," she said honestly. "His body is... well, we all knew it wouldn't last forever. It's getting to the point where my healing spells aren't helping enough, and without you to assist me in it, Kristoff's body won't last much longer. I think Justice is ready for it though. Just the other day he made mention of visiting his... well, Kristoff's wife. I think he's saying good bye."

"Why didn't he say anything?" Anders asked.

"You know how he is. He cares about helping people, righting wrongs and stopping evil things from happening or getting revenge for those that it does happen to. He's not exactly the touchy-feely type," she said with a shrug of his shoulders. "He's ready to go... and we can only hope he doesn't die in the process."

"But he might."

"Maybe," she said, feeling sad about it. She didn't often encounter good spirits, but those she had, she treasured. Justice was no different. "It's why I want you to say good bye to him before you go. You may not have another chance."

"He's still refusing to transfer to another body then?"

"Yes. He says to do so without permission would be unjust, of course," she said. "Can't get permission from a corpse, and he's already developing all these thoughts and ideas because of Kristoff's memories. It might be problematic if he starts to get too many different memories in his mind. Ugh. I wish Wynne was here. She would probably be able to help due to her own circumstances, help him find a living host willing to help, but no one is going to accept sharing their body with a spirit. Damn that abomination title. We need a word that's just for joining with spirits."

"You know the Chantry would go crazy if mages started to think spirits were fine to let posses you," Anders said. "It would set mages back centuries if they thought we even considered it."

"Or it might set us forward if we had a few good examples of what can happen if we do things right. Anyway, forget it. I'm musing now. Just please say good bye to him before you go. I don't honestly know if he'll be here when you get back with Karl. He might claim he has no desires, but you two have become friends. He'll get mopey if you leave without letting him know."

"Right," he said softly. "I'll do that. Thank you for telling me."

He left and she went back to work, long into the night hours. It wasn't until she left her office to go to bed did she feel any sense of dread.

It probably had to do with the fact Kristoff's body was laying on her floor, completely immobile and there was a letter pinned to her pillow. She didn't bother to check to see if Justice was still inside, able to tell immediately that he was gone. Instead she snatched up the paper and ripped it off her bedding to read it.

'Commander, I know this is going to upset you, so I'll just say it outright. I've thought about our talk and I don't think I can take the papers, mostly because I'm not coming back. There are too many things to do. Karl isn't the only one who needs saving or help, and I can't have you lying so much just to protect one mage.

There's a problem with our beliefs if we really need to go through so much effort to keep a single man safe. Maybe you can't do anything about it, but I can. Not as a Grey Warden, but an apostate. It's a word I'll carry with me if I have to. I think I need to do this one my own. Well, mostly on my own.

By the way, don't worry about Justice. I think I was able to fix it. If that old bat Wynne can handle it, I'm sure I can too.

Sincerely,

Anders

P.S. Please check on Aura occasionally for me. I don't want Justice to worry about her, okay?'

She read the note several times over before she was finally able to believe it, and even then she didn't want to.

"Anders... you didn't," she whispered as she looked down at the lifeless corpse of Kristoff.

End of Chapter 1

So there we have it, first chapter. The second will be handling Hawke and then Lavellan respectfully. Obviously I couldn't cover her whole back-story in one chapter, but this is the important points for the plot. More of course will be revealed as the story goes on.

If you enjoyed it, please read and review. Much appreciated.


	2. The Champion of Ferelden

Second chapter in the series, and it's one I really wanted to write. Honestly, the whole idea from the story revolved around this idea I had for Hawke. The very first time I played her, she was diplomatic warrior, solider for the king and protector of her young sister, and it just stuck in my head. Even when I tried to play her another way, it never fit. The comments from her mother about how Carver dying was her fault, how Bethany resented her for being a Grey Warden and the, "You didn't know my mother," statement when Anders told her Leandra wouldn't want her to blame herself over her death really struck me, even though that part was on my second play through and I thought I was prepared for all the shit that could have happened to the poor woman.

Hawke has a sense of duty I can't help but admire more than anything else in Dragon Age II. Even though I could possibly play her as a self-serving, bitch in the future, it will never really be her to me. To me, Hawke believed in helping others, be damned the personal consequences, but there's only so much one person can really do.

Chapter 2: The Champion of Kirkwall

_'Reach down in your heart and you'll find many reasons to fight. Survival, honor, glory. But what about those that feel it's their duty to protect the innocent? There you'll find a warrior savage enough to match any dragon.' ~ Varric Tethras, Dragon Age 9:40, Dragon Age Inquisition_

The rain felt cold as it poured down on Hawke, but she didn't move from the spot she was at. The weather didn't bother her much, and she felt oddly warm in her core despite it all. She had firm suspicions on why it was.

"Anders, you don't have to stay out here and watch me, you know," she said as she turned to him, away from the grave of her mother. It declared her name in embellished silver, the crest of the Amell family and the date of her life. It had been cut too short, much too short and the numbers seemed to mock her in all their finery. Even though she'd spared no expense for the resting place of her mother's ashes, she knew she should have been able to do more. This seemed a hollow apology for being unable to save her and she couldn't look at it anymore.

"You're going to catch your death of cold like this," Anders protested softly. He wasn't close, hiding under cover beneath a tree, but she could feel the influence of his magic anyway. Fenris, leaning against the tree next to him, scowled when he looked suspiciously at the mage.

"What are you doing to her, mage?" he spat.

"Keeping her warm. What, you want her to get sick?" he asked incredulously.

"Now listen here, mage. If you think I'm going to-"

Hawke sighed and rolled her eyes. Why this had to happen so often was really beyond her. She could understand their opposing views. She'd grown up with Carver and Bethany bickering all the time, and even siblings had argued over the dangers of magic, so it made sense how these two could do it. What she didn't understand if they loathed one another so much, why did they both have to stick so close to one another? It seemed whenever she went anywhere, Hawke always had the both of them coming. Either Fenris would say he should follow her and Anders would insist he tag along or the opposite would happen. Did they live off of bickering?

She couldn't possibly believe their explanations were true when they'd claimed they were protecting her from the other. She was an adult that could handle herself.

After all, she'd handled Fenris breaking her heart just fine, leaving her when he refused the chance to be happy. She could handle this heartbreak too.  
What she couldn't handle right now was the two of them arguing with one another just hours after her mother's funeral. The ashes of the logs would have still been hot if not for the rain. Did they really have to do this now?

"Have you sensed Bethany coming yet?" she cut in just as Anders started to compare the plight of mages to slavery. It would do no good. They'd had this argument so often, the same points made over and over, it might as well have been scripted and recited like a play was.

"No..." he admitted softly. "I don't think she's going to come, Hawke. The life of a Grey Warden is demanding after all."

"I thought for sure when I sent her the letter. It's been three years. Isn't she ever just going to come home, even for a visit?" she asked worriedly. "Don't they give them breaks?"

Anders looked uncomfortable for a moment. He clearly didn't want to say what was on his mind, a first for him.

"It's not like that. We're not exactly tightly knit or anything. Yes, we have our orders and we're excepted to keep close to whatever keep or mission we have, but it's not like we're never allowed to come home. There's a lot of freedom to the order when off duty. If Bethany isn't coming... it's probably because she doesn't want to," he admitted. "I'm sorry."

She stood there for a moment, her black hair plastered to her face and the rain running underneath her clothes and over her skin. Finally, she shook her head and turned back to the grave, sitting down in front of it.

"You two should go home," she said finally. "No need for all of us to wait for her."

"Hawke, as much as I don't like to agree with the mage-"

"I have a name. I use yours, Fenris."

"The mage, I think he's right. Bethany doesn't seem to want to show."

"She's my sister," Hawke said in determination. "I'll wait here as long as it takes. You two need to get home. Get some rest, okay?"

They didn't leave, and neither did she. It wasn't until the woman's head slumped onto her knees and she nearly fell over did they rush to her. Anders reached her first, catching her in his arms as she slept, the dawn coming.

"So stubborn," Fenris muttered. His hands twitched, moving to collect her out of the mage's hands, but the human glared up at him.

"Don't you dare say those things about her," he bit out as he stood up. "She needed comfort. It wasn't stubbornness. It was a desperate hope."

"She's not as weak as you seem to think," the elf muttered.

"Well, she's not as strong as you think," he snapped back, cradling her tenderly to his chest despite his harsh words thrown at the other man. "Not all of us can walk away from those we need like they don't matter. If you were a man at all, you would have been there for her."

"I was here for her!" Fenris snapped, his lyrium flaring for a second in anger.

"No," Anders said as he shook his head and began to walk away. "You really weren't. I don't even think you know how to be there for anyone, and that's the real tragedy here. Go slink back to your stolen mansion, Fenris. You've already proven you care more about yourself than you do her."

"It's not as if you have been any better for her."

"She didn't pick me. It, as much as I hate it, not my place to do so. You can believe me when I say I would give almost anything to have made her chose differently."

The former slave followed angrily, but the two didn't exchange any further in their arguments. It wasn't as important as getting her home safe.

By the time they reached her estate, the rain had stopped. It was so early, but everyone was still awake from the night before. Bodahn and Orana rushed over the second they came in, taking her with worry clear in their eyes. Anders and Fenris were both shocked when the elven woman hugged the both of them as the dwarf took Hawke in his arms to carry the woman to bed.

"Thank you so much for seeing Mistress home safe," she breathed before rushing off after her fellow servant to see to Hawke.

"Well... I guess at least she has some people who can put her first," Anders sighed out.

"She certainly deserves to have more."

The former Grey Warden looked at Fenris, and scowled softly.

"She could have," he muttered before leaving.

#-#

"Somehow, I just knew it would be you," Bethany said as she stood up from from a Qunari after checking to make sure it was dead.

"Bethany!" her older sister cried out happily as she rushed over to her. She was surprised to see there was no such happiness in the mage's eyes, looking away when Hawke reached her.

"Hello, sister," she said, her tone cold. "How fitting we should meet here."

She was surprised by the reaction, but tried not to let it get to her. It had been three years since she'd seen Bethany. She'd obviously grown up, but there was still a desire in Marian to hold her close and see if she was okay.

"Are you alright? Are there more of you?" she asked instead. She was still worried after all.

"This is everyone, thank you," she said, though she didn't sound at all grateful. In fact, as Stroud said the same thing, he sounded much happier to see her than her own sister did.

"Bethany, wait!" she cried out as they all turned to leave at Bethany's urging. "I need to tell you about mother. You must not have gotten the letter. She-"

"I know," she interrupted. "I did get it. The Wardens helped me hold a wake."

"Could you not make it?" Hawke asked. "You never came home for the funeral."

She didn't answer, just shook her head.

"I'm glad you were with her in her final moments," she said, clearly avoiding the question. "I have to go. It's not the time for this."

She watched Bethany leave with the others, swallowing the lump in her throat. Bethany's letters had always been a little passive aggressive, the few times she'd bothered to write at all, but Hawke had always told herself she was just reading too much into it and was paranoid.

There was no denying it now. The expression her sister, her own sister, had given her confirmed it.

Bethany hated her for what had happened to her, and why shouldn't she? It was all her fault she'd gone down there in the first place.

#-#

Hawke could barely believe her eyes when she watched Isabela stroll into the throne room of the Viscount, stepping on a Qunari as she did so, and with the look of absolute confidence on her face. She held the Tome of Koslun in her possession.

"I'm sure you'll find it... mostly undamaged," she said as she handed it carelessly over to the Arishok.

"You came back," Hawke breathed happily. "I thought you'd be long gone by now."

"This is your damn influence, Hawke," she snapped, though there was a smile on her face. "I was halfway to Ostwic before I knew I had to turn around. Ugh. It's pathetic."

Even as much as Isabela griped, Hawke didn't believe it for a second. Her friend had returned and the pain of her betrayal was already gone. She was about to say so when the Arishok spoke, shattering the moment.

"The relic is reclaimed. I am now free to return to Par Vollen," the giant claimed before adding pointedly, "with the thief."

"What?!" Isabela asked in shock.

"You thought you could strand here for four years without consequence?" Fenris pointed out.

"She stole the Tome of Koslun. She must return with us," the Arishok agreed.

Hawke glanced over at Isabela and the pirate actually seemed a bit concerned. Her confidence had evaporated immediately and she couldn't say she blamed her. She really had thought she could come in here, give the relic back, and then just walk away without any consequences. Isabela had indirectly caused all of this. Every person who'd died in this attack could be pinned on the pirate, and that was only this one night. Trouble had been brewing here for years because of the Qunari, and rarely had anything been resolved peacefully.

It would be just to let the Qun have her, even if it was only for pettiness sake at trying to leave Hawke in the first place. Even if she stayed, there was no guarantee that she wouldn't be lynched by everyone in Kirkwall. She didn't even seem all that sorry for what she'd made happen.

As she looked at Isabela though, she saw her mother. She saw Bethany and Carver, people she'd been unable to keep safe. She frowned before grabbing her sword off of her back and drawing it.

"She's staying with us," she informed him. "You have your relic. Leave."

"Then you leave me no choice. I challenge you, Hawke. We will duel to the death for the thief," the Arishok dictated. She wasn't surprised. She'd already anticipated it, actually. He wasn't a man who let things end without bloodshed, and she'd die before she let one more person who was important to her get put in harm's way.

"I won't let him hurt you," she whispered as the people moved out of the way to let the two fight. "Don't worry."

"But if you lose-" she protested before the warrior shook her head, her face set in determination.

"I won't lose."

There was no ceremony to it, besides the loud declaration of the fight. It seemed to be all the start there was needed before he charged, no bowing or signs of respect. The many discussions with him about the way of the Qun allowed her to respect that. He would accept nothing else but his way, and if that's how he wanted it, she'd give it to him.

Their weapons clashed against each other and she met him full force, putting everything she had into it. He was larger than her, and far stronger, but she was just as determined to win this fight. No, more. She wouldn't let him take her friend.

She'd destroy him first.

They moved around each other as they fought, but it was more about strength than any grace or dexterity. It was impossible to dodge both his sword and ax, and she couldn't hold him in place when he pressed down on her.

"Why do you fight for her, Hawke?" he hissed at her as he drove her to one knee. "You should accept your place. This is something you can not do."

"Don't you dare tell me what I can and can not do!" she yelled back at him. She pushed forward with all her strength, shoving him back. He stumbled for a moment, getting his footing quickly, but she pushed the attack. Screaming out a battle cry, she jumped at him, bringing her sword down full force. The handle of his ax snapped, broke to useless wood as she ended the arc only to bring it up again, the blade slicing across his chest. "You can't have her! I won't lose her! I won't lose anyone again! I'll rip you apart if you so much as touch her!"

Anders, Fenris, Isabela and Varric watched from the sidelines, some of them barely able to believe it.

"I've never seen her so... angry before," Varric whispered. "Andraste's ass, she's actually doing it."

"I don't believe it," Isabela whispered. "Why? Why's she doing this for me?"

"Don't get comfortable with the thought you're special," Fenris muttered, his arm crossed. Unlike the other three, he watched with a cold calculating eye. He knew the woman he loved. She wasn't weak, and moments of pain didn't make her so. They made her stronger. The Arishok had no chance against her. For all the faith he had in his way of life, Hawke believed in herself more. "This is a battle of wills, and Hawke will die before she backs down."

"She may very well," Anders protested.

"No. She's too strong to let herself die. That's not an option to her. It never is. The Arishok believes in his heart he'll win or he'll die. Hawke just believes she'll win. That's why she's going to."

Not hearing their words, Hawke continued to press the attack. Sword met sword as the Qunari swung at her, but she didn't buckle this time. Taking a sudden step back, she dived forward just as he stumbled into the empty air, the loss of the weight holding him taking him off guard. He looked up just in time to see anger and hatred in her eyes before she brought her weapon down on him, hacking through the arm that held his sword and embedding deeply into his shoulder. Bringing her leg up, she kicked him off of her great sword and sending him crashing to the stairs.

He was bleeding all over the carpet, his own blood splattered on her face as she stood there. He whispered a promise to return even as he laid there dying, but she didn't answer. He was already gone by the time he finished, and the other Qun walked away without a word. The nobles cheered around her and she turned to them as Meredith and Orsino burst in, surprised to see it was all over.

She didn't hear anything as they spoke, something about a champion, but she ignored it all. Turning instead to Isabela, she smiled as she walked up to her.

"Hawke, I-"

She didn't let her say anything as she pulled her close, hugging the woman to her. Isabela tensed against her, and she had to wonder if this was the first time the woman actually felt uncomfortable with being touched.

"I'm glad you're safe," she breathed out. "We'll work out the rest later, okay?"

Isabela sighed before she hugged her friend back and gave a chuckle in the back of her throat.

"Alright," she agreed. "If I get a lecture though, I expect a spanking to go along with it."

"Oh Isabela. Don't ever change."

#-#

"So, Champion of Kirkwall. That's going to make for an interesting read, don't you think? I'll be raking in gold by the pound at this rate if I put this in a book," Varric chuckled as he drank down a pint. He was sitting in Hawke's library as she leaned against a desk. Her armor was off, and bandages wrapped around her. She'd been put through a lot just to get to the Arishok, and Anders had insisted on sticking around to heal her.

"This is a challenge, even to me," he said as he poured magic into the slashes on her body. He tried not to blush, since she was barely in anything at all, only her small clothes. Even bruised and hurt, she looked magnificent. How in the world had Fenris been able to walk away from her? "Do me a favor at least. Don't do this again any time soon."

"I think a break would be wonderful, though honestly I'm not sure that's going to be possible," she said with a small smile. "Varric, just what is a champion, anyway? To the city, I mean?"

"Well, it's largely political," he said. "You'll be expected to show up to all sorts of parties, ceremonies, make speeches, be called on if there are signs of trouble. Kirkwall is going to need a lot of rebuilding, so you'll have your work cut out for you."

"Not much of a reward," Anders muttered.

"Actually, that doesn't sound bad," she said. "I've been trying to be helpful around here for a while. Now that I have a title, I might have some sway, and the official kind to boot."

"I didn't figure you for a politician, Hawke," Varric chuckled.

"I'm not, and I don't want to be," she informed him with a shake of her head. "I just mean for the mages. I might be able to do something now."

Anders' spell broke as his concentration was snapped, and he looked at her in shock, even as she winced.

"Ow. Anders, what was that for?" she asked him. "I didn't know creation magic stung like that."

"Oh, Maker. I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean it. Unfinished spells have a tendency to have a bit of rebound. Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Just took me off guard," she assured him. "Are you okay, though?"

"Yes. I... I was just surprised to hear you say that you wanted to help mages. I mean..."

"Why are you surprised? I've always done my best to help out," she asked him.

"With little things, yes. Because that's all I asked. I mean, I couldn't have expected you to be part of the resistance or anything. You've been trying to rebuild you life, and now you're someone important in this city, even more so than before. If you speak out about mages, you could lose it all," he said.

"If I didn't use it to try to help, there's no point in having that power," she said. "Meredith needs to stop treating everyone so poorly. Maybe with a new Viscount and me telling her to back off a bit, she'll actually listen to reason for a change."

If Varric hadn't been sitting there, he might have grabbed her to kiss her. He wanted to so badly, to pin her to the desk and make love to her until the dawn, and maybe even after.

"You are the one bright spot in all of Kirkwall," he breathed out, tracing a hand over her face.

"I only got here with help from you and the others," she assured him.

"Heh. Not the way I'm going to write it," Varric chuckled. "You think it would seem too bullshitty if I say you kicked down the door and beat the Arishok over the head with it?"

"Ugh, Varric. Please. I doubt anyone will believe I was able to do it at all," she said as she laughed before she cringed and clutched her stomach. "Ow, ow, ow, ow."

"Will you just stop squirming?" Anders muttered before he got back to healing. "I swear, you're going to get yourself killed one day."

"Well, good thing she'll always have you around to patch her up," Varric said. "This should be a poem all in itself, a warrior and mage, off fighting together to right wrongs and smite villains, showing Thedas that mages can be trusted. I bet Justice would love it at the very least."

"Yes," he breathed softly. "I'm sure he would."

#-#

"Fenris?" Hawke asked as she poked her head into the main room of his mansion. After Fenris had left after meeting his sister, she'd wanted to come check up on him. He had to be a mess right now, after the day they'd had. Killing his former master, finding out he'd actually worked for the supposed honor of the lyrium inside of him, and his sister betraying him... it couldn't be easy to process all of this. She knew him. He'd be warring with himself for days over how he should feel if he couldn't talk it out. "Can I come in?"

"If you want," he said, sitting by the fire. She was a little surprised he didn't have a bottle of wine by his side. Maybe after six years, he'd finally run out, or maybe he wasn't in the mood.

"I thought you could use an ear to listen," she informed him as she sat down with him. "This can't be easy for you right now."

"It isn't. You would think I would be happy. I'm free. Danarius is dead. Yet none of it feels as it should," he said softly.

"You won your freedom, Fenris, but that doesn't make it all suddenly go away," she said. "Pain has a way of lasting, and it seems intense at first, but you'll move past it. I know you can."

"I thought if I didn't need to run and fight to stay alive, I would finally be able to live as a free man," he admitted. "But how is that? My sister is gone, and I have nothing anymore. Not even an enemy."

"Maybe that just means you don't have anything holding you back," she offered and he seemed to honestly consider it.

"Mmm, an interesting thought. It's just... difficult to overlook the stain magic has left on my life," he confessed. "If I seem bitter, it isn't without cause. Perhaps it is time to move forward. I just don't know where that leads. Do you?"

She almost pointed out he'd asked for that magic. He was hiding behind a technicality, but it wasn't time to argue about it. She'd done her best to appease him. She knew magic was dangerous and that it could lead to horrible things, and she'd conceded to many of his points that mages have done many horrible things, but with the understanding that plenty without magic had done just as many horrible things. Still, now wasn't the time to get into that sort of conversation.

"Wherever it leads, I hope it means we'll stay together," she confessed to him softly.

"That is my hope as well," he said before glancing down at the floor. It was hard to tell, but he seemed suddenly so worried. "We... have never discussed what happened between us three years ago."

"You didn't want to talk about it," she said. The couple of time she'd approached him, he'd found some reason not to discuss it. Who could have blamed her for letting it die?

"I felt like a fool. I thought it better if you hated me, and I deserved no better. It isn't better though. That night... I remember your touch as if it were yesterday."

He stood and moved closer to her, and she looked at him in curiosity. There was a soft feeling in the air, but she was afraid to speak and ruin it. She didn't know what he was leading to, but hope was flooding her heart as well as fear. It had been three years after all. He might just be apologizing, but nothing more.

"I should have asked your forgiveness long ago. I hope you can forgive me now," he whispered.

Oh. That was it. Of course it was. He wasn't the type to stay in love, was he? She'd been the fool for letting these feelings stay, but he'd been her first and only. How could she have possibly let it go so easily? It seemed he had though.

"I need to understand why you left, Fenris," she said. If he wanted forgiveness and not love, she could accept that, but she wanted the answers he had denied her before.

"I've thought about the answer a thousand times," he admitted. "The pain... the memories it brought up... it was too much. I was a coward. If I could go back, I would have stayed, tell you how I felt."

Hawke's breath caught her throat, and she was barely able to manage the words she wanted to say.

"What would you have said?" she asked him.

"Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you," he told her. It wasn't just a hypothetical answer, but a confession. He still felt that way, and he always would.

"I understand," she told him as a smile spread over spread on her lips. "I always understood."

"If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side," he said softly before she suddenly stood up. His arms wound around her tenderly as she kissed him. It wasn't like last time, full of passion pent up until it exploded. They just held one another closely and refused to let go.

"I love you," she whispered to him. "Tell me you love me to."

"I always have and I always will," he promised. "We'll never be apart again, I swear."

#-#

The red light that shot up into the sky pulled together for a moment before shooting outward, shaking the whole city. Fire and wreckage flew in every direction and she shielded her eyes as the shock wave hit her and the others.

"Maker have mercy," Meredith breathed after it passed, as they all stared up at the destroyed wreckage.

"There can be no peace," Anders breathed, his voice holding both a promise and an apology.

"Elthina, no! Maker, no!" Sebastian screamed as he fell to his knees. "She was your most faithful, your most beloved! Why didn't she listen to me?!"

Hawke couldn't bare to look as he stood and began to pray for the souls of the departed. Maker, why? This is what Anders had planned? This is why he'd asked her to help him collect those ingredients, asked for her to distract the Grand Cleric? How could she have been so stupid? Why hadn't she realized? He'd been getting more and more unstable over the years, yet she'd done what he'd asked.

She'd helped him kill all those people.

"Why? Why would you do such a thing?" Orsino gasped out.

"I have removed the chance of compromise, because there can be no compromise," Anders bit out. "This will not end peacefully. Every chance we have tried, we have been silenced, and gone along with it. This is the only way!"

"The Grand Cleric has been slain by magic. The Chantry destroyed," Meredith hissed. "As Knight-Commander, I hereby invoke the Right of Annulment. Every mage in the Circle is to be executed immediately!"

"What?" Orsino cried out. "No! The Circle didn't even do this! Champion, you can't let her! Help us stop this madness!"

"And I demand you stand with us!" Meredith ordered. "Even you must see this outrage cannot be tolerated!"

"Why are we even debating the Right of Annulment when the monster who did this is standing right here?" Sebastian yelled at Hawke, as if she'd been the one to bring it all up. She could barely hear everyone demanding her help. "I swear, I will kill him."

"It can't be stopped now," Anders said softly, staring Hawke down. She couldn't believe this. How could he have done this? "You have to choose."

"You fool!" Orsino snapped. "You've doomed us all!"

"We were already doomed. A quick death now or a slow one later? I'd rather die fighting," Anders said coldly.

Hawke felt anger swelling up inside of her. How could he stand there and still demand her to follow him? She'd done everything for him! Helped him with his manifestos, tried to convince Elthina to get involved more in the tensions, and all of it had been to try a peaceful solution. Yet he was flinging them all into war just so he could make everyone do what he thought would solve the problem, whether the other mages wanted it or not.

"You're a murderer!" she accused. "The Grand Cleric, the other mages! Their blood is on your hands!"

"I know!"

"No, you don't!" she yelled at him. "You don't care about any of that! You just wanted revenge! This doesn't have anything about justice! Everyone who dies because of this is because of you!"

"Enough!" Meredith snapped. "It does not matter. Even if I wished to, I could not stay my hand. The people will demand blood."

Hawke seriously doubted either of those statements were true. They'd want Anders, yes, but of course Meredith wouldn't wait for a trial. She'd been wanting to do this for years.

"I will not let her slaughter all of you," she said as she turned to Orsino. She'd helped with the death of the Grand Cleric, whether knowing or not. She had to save the others from this madness.

"Thank the Maker," Orsino breathed.

"Think carefully, Champion," Meredith hissed as she advanced on Hawke, glaring at her. "Stand with them and you share their fate."

"I'm not helping you, Meredith," she snapped.

"You are a fool, Champion," she hissed before she addressed her fellow templars. "Kill them all! I will rouse the rest of the order!"

Hawke drew her sword and she leaped at Meredith as she tried to leave, but a templar jumped in her way before she could make the hit. A mad fight ensued, and every time she tried to break off to stop the woman before she could get away to tell the other templars her plan, another fighter got into her way to keep her from pursuing.

By the time it was over, Meredith was long gone. Orsino looked grief stricken as he looked around himself.

"So, it has come to this," he whispered. "I don't know if we can win this war... but thank you. You are a true friend to mages. I will leave your... friend for you to deal with. I must return to the Gallows. Meet me there as soon as you can."

She watched him leave, and she wondered if it was already too late. Squeezing her eyes shut, she moved over to Anders, sitting on a box and awaiting judgment.

"There is nothing you can say that I have no already said to myself," he told her before she could speak. "I took a spirit into my soul to accomplish this. I... I turned him into a demon, made him Vengeance."

"So he made you do this?" she asked him.

"Yes... and no," he said softly. "He and I are the same. I have perverted him, changed him. He tried to make me a better person, made it so I could help others, and I did this. Yet... I can't regret it. I can no more ignore the injustice of the Circle than he could. He might have known a better way, but it's too late for that now. It's gone too far to stop it. The world has to see this... then we can all stop pretending the Circle is a solution."

"So you start a massacre to prove a point?!" she snapped. A large part of her wanted to grab him and start shaking him. How in the world could he possibly have slid this far into madness?! Didn't he see this would only make things worse?

"I'm not proving a point. I'm changing a world," he replied angrily, staring at the ground. "The people fear what we can do, but to use that fear to bludgeon us into submission is wrong! And they do it with our blessing! If I pay for it with my life, than I pay. The sooner you do, the sooner my name will live on to inspire generations."

That's what he wanted, wasn't it? He wanted to die, to not have to live to see what he'd caused. He'd rather go out now and pretend himself a hero, a martyr to his cause, as if he'd done some glorious and wonderful thing and died to help others. It made her feel sick. He really believed he was right, and nothing she could say would change his mind.

There was no way she was going to give him that. If he was going to die, it would be by his own hand. He'd see all the chaos this would bring, and he'd know every mage that fell would be his fault. Killing him now would only let people think he'd died for some noble reason or something like that. She wouldn't make him a martyr to encourage more actions like this.

"Just go," she bit out.

"No!" Sebastian snapped. "You cannot let this abomination walk free. He dies, or I will bring such an army with me on my return there will be nothing left of Kirkwall for these maleficarum to rule!"

"Do not interfere, Sebastian," she said to him. "Killing him now will do nothing."

"I thought I knew you, Hawke. I will return to Starkhaven, but I swear to you, I will come back and find your precious Anders. I will show him what true justice is!"

"Sebastian..." she said, but he was already leaving. She didn't want him to go, but she knew he wouldn't stay. Still, she knew killing Anders wouldn't serve justice. It would just be more revenge. She could only hope she'd be able to find him and convince them of that before he came back to Kirkwall to destroy it.

"Thank you for my life," Anders said as he slowly stood up. "I'll try not to-"

"Shut up," she muttered. "I don't want to hear it. Just get out of here."

He seemed hurt for a second, but he nodded and ran off. She walked toward the others, her heart in her throat.

"We should go," she said softly to the others. "Come on."

"Yeah. The Gallows is going to be quite a show," Varric agreed.

It was hard enough just getting there. Chaos had spread everywhere, just as bad as when the Qunari had attacked. She remembered both the panic of the people of the city, and her own grim determination to save them. It was exactly the same as before, but she didn't honestly know if she could stop it so easily now. Before, all she'd had to do was defeat a single person. Now she had to stop a war before it spread out of Kirkwall and to the rest of the Free Marches, if not all of Thedas.

Fighting through the city, she was surprised by the sudden flare of magic that erupted next to her, killing a shade just as it appeared. She looked wildly around, expecting Anders to have come back and insist on her help, only to see her sister there.

"Bethany?" she asked incredulously.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," she said as she approached, putting her staff away. "I thought you were dead."

"Last time we spoke, it didn't seem that would matter to you," Hawke admitted. It might have been a bit cruel, but the fact was she was confused by the sudden concern.

"I... wanted to apologize for what happened back in the Deep Roads. You saved my life and I couldn't even see that," she confessed. "You're the only family I have left. If you need my help against the templars, just say the word."

"I thought Grey Wardens were supposed to stay neutral," she stated.

"Right now, I'm not a Warden. I'm your sister. I blamed you for putting me in the Order, and I was wrong. I once said I could never imagine turning against you, yet when you saved my life when I asked to go to the Deep Roads, I did exactly that."

"It's okay," Hawke assured her. "I'm just glad you're here, and your magic would certainly be welcome."

"Good," Bethany said with a nod before she looked around. "Where's Anders though? I thought for sure he'd want to help."

Hawke swallowed and shook her head.

"I'll explain when I can. For now, we need to hurry," she said softly. Bethany had admired Anders, seen him as a good and strong man. Even if they had time to get into it, she wasn't sure she could say it just yet. It was all too fresh.

"Yes, I agree. The Hawke sisters, together at last," Bethany said, actually smiling a bit. "Just like old times."

They were able to reach the Gallows quickly after that. However, when she saw Anders there, she snarled and stalked up to him.

"You decided to join the mages after all?" he asked her before she could begin to yell at him. "Will it sully your victory to have me here?"

"I've stood with the mages all this time, something you never saw no matter what I did to help you," she snapped. "If you want to help mages, be gone from here. They can not win this with a murderer at their head. Get out of Kirkwall, before you give Sebastian reason to come back and you destroy even more innocent lives."

He didn't say anything to defend himself, just looked at her for a moment, sadness in his eyes. She wondered if he felt guilt for his betrayal or if it was just because she wouldn't give him even a moment to think what he had done was the right choice. Maybe both. Either way, it didn't matter. She would not let him fight next to her.

"I wish you victory," he whispered softly before he walked away from her.

#-#

"Just go!" Hawke insisted hurriedly as the large demon advanced on them. "I'll distract it, and you run."

"No!" the Inquisitor protested. "Not without you! We'll all get out of here!"

She looked at Stroud and the elven woman before her, and smiled softly. She couldn't let them die here, not when she could do something about it. This man had saved her sister's life and the Grey Wardens needed him, and Thedas needed the Inquisition and its leader. She was the only one here that was expendable. More than that, she had failed to stop the war that had ravaged nearly all of Thedas, failed to kill Corypheus, and now everyone was paying for her mistake. She had to make up for it somehow.

"We don't have a choice. Take care of Varric, for me, okay?" she asked. Pain filled the Inquisitor's eyes, but Hawke looked away before she could let it sway her. "Go, now. I'll keep it away from you."

She ran towards the large spider, dwarfing her in size, and began slashing at the monster. She drew its attention to her and watched the others run past before focusing her attack back on the demon. She'd keep it away from them, no matter what it took.

"Fenris..." she breathed. "I'm so sorry."

The air crackled with energy as she slashed at one of the bits of flesh hanging from its mouth, chopping it off just as the breach was closed. The green light evaporated immediately, but she kept fighting, trying to fend it off as long as possible. She'd stayed, knowing she would die, but she'd fight until the bitter end.

It didn't seem that was the plan though, as the spider suddenly roared in her face and one of its legs swung out at her, hitting her full force. She went flying, her sword leaving her hand and clattering uselessly to the floor a good 30 paces away as her back slammed into the bare rock of the fade. Pain erupted in her body, striking her like a crack of lightning before she fell to her hands and knees, coughing up blood violently on the floor.

"Well now, this won't do at all."

She looked up suddenly with hope to spot her blade, but it was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the spider. Confused, she glanced around, trying to figure out where it had went. Her eyesight was blurry from the pain, and her scalp felt sticky and wet., no doubt with blood. She could barely move without pain screaming in her body, and she didn't know where that voice she'd just heard a moment ago had come from. It was clearly the fear demon, but the pain was making it too hard to think and figure out where it was.

"Whatever you want, demon, you'll not get it from me," she said. "You might as well kill me."

"Oh, you couldn't possibly give me anything I want. You have caused me nothing but grief, Hawke. You have cut me off from Corypheus, killed many of my pets, and I don't even have the Inquisitor. You are a brave woman, but it was foolish for you to stay. I am going to have to settle for you as a prize though, so I'll need to make the most out of it."

"I don't fear you," she informed the monster as she stood up. She winced and had to steady herself to avoid falling, but she'd meet her death like a warrior and nothing else. Hawke refused to let him see her cower.

"I know you don't. Not yet, but I know your mind, Hawke, and I know what you fear," the demon spoke before all the flames in the Fade extinguished except the one closest to her. It created a ring of light about her and she looked in every direction she could in order to try and find the voice. A familiar laughter filled the air, seeming to come from every direction as she tried to remember where she'd heard it before. Was there someone else here? Another demon?

Footsteps began to sound, slow and steady as they approached her. She set herself to face it, determined not to give it anything but defiance. However, as the flickering light met the one approaching, her eyes widened in shock at who was standing before her.

"Hello, Hawke," the nightmare said with Anders' form and voice, a smirk she must have seen thousands of times on his lips. "Get comfortable. We have all eternity to play now."

End of Chapter 2

This whole idea is what spawned this story. I must have thought about what happened to Hawke a million times and the fact the game said "will likely die" as opposed to die made me curious. Maybe it's just Bioware keeping things open, but I was hopeful. It killed me to lose Hawke and I want to feel like it wasn't really the end of her story.

Hawke is a strong woman, but she's not invincible. When you see her again in Inquisition, she seems so world weary and worn down. Enter in a fear demon, and being trapped in the Fade with it, no allies to help her I don't think it would just kill her and be done with it. It seemed to cruel to do anything like that.  
Up next, the Inquisitor. Please, if you liked this, comment and let me know how I'm doing so far.


	3. Herald of Andraste

I probably should have written this sooner, but I was distracted from it with another fic that I'm working on called Masked Mirrors. I had a few days off so I did my best to knock this out before it went too long without an update. Most of that time was spent looking up information and playing the game scenes referenced here about a dozen times a piece so I had what I needed for it. So much talking in Inquisition, oh my god.

As stated before, this chapter features Ellana Lavellan, a Dalish hunter. If you would like some extra looks into her personality and outlook, she has a one shot fic called You Made it so I Could Never Have Him. The story plays out differently obviously since in that one Hawke wasn't left in the Fade and it is not connected to this fic, however it is also Lavellan/Varric. It certainly doesn't need to be read since everything about the elf will be covered in this fic though

Chapter 3: Herald of Andraste

_'Change is coming to the world. Many fear change and will fight it with every fiber of their being, but sometimes change is what they need most. Sometimes change is what sets them free.' ~ Morrigan, Dragon Age 9:33, Dragon Age Origins: Witch Hunt_

This was never part of the plan.

That was what Ellana of the Dalish clan of Lavellan told herself over and over again as she stood on the snowy ground of the mountains, surrounded by people bowing to her. She kept repeating it again and again in her mind, as if she would somehow wake up her from this dream she was having. Surely this had to be a dream, or maybe she was dead.

Had she died, lost to the rock and ice that had covered her when Haven had been lost? Was this simply some last bits of her thoughts before she passed and her spirit left her body?

Whatever it was, it could not possibly be real and if it was, she didn't want it.

She had only went to the Conclave because she'd been asked. She was one of the younger hunters, one of the ones who often went along when her clan traded with the Shemlen. She liked them, got on well with those she talked to, but she had always been wary enough to make sure her blade was nearby if she needed it. Keeper Dashanna had trusted her to this task, telling her of the war happening and how it all ended would shape every one of the elves over all of Thedas, including the Dalish. She had to watch and find out all she could.

Ellana was just supposed to have watched. The explosion never should have happened. She was never supposed to become a Herald of Andraste. She didn't want this.

They bowed anyway at her feet, while she stood helplessly in the snow. She was no herald of a religions she cared nothing for. She was an elf, lost in the mountains, cold and sore with her clothing torn, armor banged up with some pieces missing, and her usually intricately braided black hair a mess and half undone to hang in tangled knots about her shoulders. Her muscles still ached in pain from the battle that seemed so long ago now, and she didn't feel holy or divine at all.

"No..." she whispered softly. "Stop. I'm not..."

She didn't get any further in her protests before she felt someone pass behind her. Turning, she saw Solas there, giving her a hard look. It was one she saw often when he was thinking of something important, but not once had he ever given it to her.

"A word," he said softly. She all but ran to go with him, having no desire to stay here.

He walked out past the camp where there was a single unlit metal torch, and he called forward fire with a wave of his hand. She stood happily next to it, letting the blue flames warm her. It was intense but comforting, like sinking into a hot bath, which she'd learned in Haven that was a very, very nice sensation.

"The humans have not raised one of our people so highly for ages beyond counting," he complimented her. "The faith is hard one, lethallan, worthy of pride... save one detail. The threat Corypheus wields? The orb? It is ours. Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. We must learn how he survived... and we must prepare for their reaction when they learn the orb is of our people."

Dread filled her, understanding entirely what he was implying. She was too scared to ask how he knew about this. That discussion would have to be saved for another time.

"Even if we defeat Corypheus, eventually they'll find a way to blame the elves," she breathed. What would that mean? More Exalted Marches, what little they had, torn away from them? Right now they were allowed to hunt and camp without fear of being hurt as long as they stayed far enough away, and even with some that wasn't true. Some Dalish Clans and humans did their best to hunt one another, refusing to let a peace settle, determined to destroy the other side. She knew how lucky she was to have been raised in a clan that believed it was better to get along with the Shemlens than to fight and lose people on both sides.

What would happen if the truth was found out by the masses? Horrible images flooded her mind and she couldn't shut them out.

"I suspect you are correct," he said as he saw her distress. "It is unfortunate, but we must be above suspicion to be seen as valued allies. Faith in you is shaping the moment, but it needs room to grow."

She looked at the blue flame, letting it dance in her eyes as she considered his words. He was offering her an option and advice, in his own gentle way. Guiding her down a path they both knew she was already on, but his words helped. It gave her courage to keep going instead of turning to flee.

"I agreed to stay because I wanted to save lives," she said. "One life or a hundred, anything I could do seemed worth it. Even then, I didn't want the title of Herald. I've told them not to call me that and they persist anyway. I didn't want them to have that faith... and now I need it just as much as they do, don't I?"

"They would have it anyway. It would be wise to use it as you can," he told her.

"So what do I do now?" she asked him. "What should I do to save our people from this?"

"There is a place to the north, very old and very useful. It waits for a force to hold it. It is a place where the Inquisition can grow and build. Lead them to it, and let the pieces fall where they may," he instructed her.

"This will earn their trust then?" she asked hopefully.

"We can hope, yes."

She took his guidance and did as he asked. It was easy to convince them to move, to find a safer place. The traveling took days, but she pressed on. Solas curbed her direction when it was needed, but did so from the shadows, letting everyone believe it was all because of her. Even more than before she felt the burden of their faith and feared it, but also let it spurn her on.

Just as she'd been led to this place, she was led to lead it. Ellana stood on the steps of this mighty fortress, looking out over the people who looked up at her. She saw admiration in their eyes, and hope.

Cassandra and Leliana waited for her decision and she slowly took the sword held out to her, heavy but beautiful. It was a symbol more than a weapon, intricately made and it felt oddly right in her hand.

Another look out over the people who were her allies, and even her friends. The fear in her ebbed slightly. It was still there, but it was getting better. She would see this through, even if it wasn't for the reasons everyone thought it was.

They would know the little elf hunter from so far away would save them, or die trying.

"I will lead us against Corypheus, and I will be an ambassador," she said, softly at first but her voice rising with confidence at the words she spoke. "I am an elf standing for Thedas. The Inquisition is for all."

The ones below cheered amongst promises to follow, to win this war and save the land. She raised the sword as they yelled their devotion and promises, and prayed to every single one of her gods that this would be enough. She could only hope that even one of them would hear her and answer.

#-#

The elf fidgeted a little as she walked up to Hawke, waiting at the battlements. They'd spoken already, compared notes on Corypheus and what their next step was, but the Dalish woman had more she wanted to talk to the Champion about and she didn't know when she'd have another chance.

"Still hiding up here?" she asked to break the silence. "There's a comfortable room for you that you can have, you know."

"I've actually been hiding away," Hawke said, smiling a little at her when she did so. "I've heard that seeker that was looking for me chewed out Varric quite a bit. Didn't seem wise to go parading myself around."

"They looked about ready to kill each other until I stepped in," Ellana admitted. "Getting those two to stop fighting is nerve wracking at the best of times, and it's hard to find middle ground."

Hawke laughed suddenly, throwing her head back as she did so with so much gusto the elf would have thought she'd just told some off color joke.

"I used to do the same all the time," she explained once she stopped laughing. "None of my friends really seemed to get along with any of the others, not really. There was always some bickering of some kind going on. I still remember Fenris and Anders..."

She stopped suddenly to frown and shake her head, and Ellan did not push.

"I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget what my actions have caused, along with theirs. Which is foolish considering it looks me in the face every day," she apologized.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. Everything I heard, you did the best you could," Ellana said. "There wasn't anything you could have done to prevent it."

"Maybe. Maybe if I had done something differently, it wouldn't have helped. Maybe all the roads led to once place... but the truth is I still helped him. Nothing will ever wash that away. I've learned to live with it but it took so much time for me to stop blaming myself," Hawke said.

"I imagine Fenris helped?" she guessed. The Dalish tried not to look too interested but this was the reason she had come. She wanted to talk to her about this more than anything.

"Yes," she whispered with a wistful smile. "His love for me has always been unconditional. He supported me no matter what choice I made, even when he didn't agree."

"The fact he was elf... that you two are different races... it never bothered you?"

"Why?" Hawke asked, her eyes narrowing at her. "You don't approve of humans and elves together?"

"No!" Ellana said quickly, flushing. "I mean... that came out wrong. Of course I don't have a problem with it. If you love each other that's really all that matters. It's simply that... well..."

The woman waited for her to stop blushing, looking on her curiously. Finally Ellana rubbed at her face, her cheeks feeling hot.

"I just had never really seen such a thing back with the Dalish," she explained. "I've never thought about it seriously... until now. It sounds... nice. Just knowing someone can look at you and see the person inside, even if they're different from you in every possible way. It's amazing. I wish I had that."

"Oh?" Hawke asked with an eyebrow arched. "Has some soldier caught your eye then?"

"Not... exactly," she admitted. "Has... Varric ever talked about me, Champion?"

The woman's eyes widened a bit, clearly surprised by that admission.

"Oh... uh... Well, he's said you're a good leader. You've been doing good work here and that you have a good chance of fixing Anders' mistakes. Other than that..."

"No then?" she asked.

"I'm afraid not."

The elf sighed and shook her head.

"I had sort of expected that," she admitted. "I was hoping maybe there was something more but I guess I was grasping at straws. It's not like he treats me any differently than he does anyone else."

"If you don't mind me asking, why him?" Hawke asked. "I mean, he's never exactly been available, you know? He's never told anyone why, not even me, but he's certainly not available. Ah... sorry. You probably don't want to hear that."

"I kind of came here hoping maybe he'd noticed me and told you," she confessed. "It was too embarrassing asking him myself after all. I guess I like him as a writer. When I grew up, I loved the history I learned. The lack of magic kept me from becoming a Keeper, but I wanted to learn all I could anyway. Tales recent and old, they were all fascinating to me. Varric's works though, they speak to me in a way even history hasn't. They're so amazing and unbelievable. Meeting him in person was wonderful and I ask him to tell me more all the time. It's probably silly of me, but I really care about him. I must seem like any of his other listeners though. And yet... at the same time that is also why I like him. He's always treated me like another person. Everyone else calling me the Herald of Andraste, even as I told them I'm not, it's been refreshing at least he'll never hold me up as some symbol regardless of my personal feeling."

"You don't think you were sent by the Maker then?"

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "Even if I was, I don't want others to think it either. I'm Dalish, and I've never believed in anything but my own pantheon. Some people say I should just allow it to let the Inquisition do what must be done, yet that is not what I want. I've studied the old stories, what happened to our gods and what happened at the Dales. The religion of the Maker has sometimes treated us kindly, delivering us from freedom, and other times it has hurt us so badly. Andraste fought to free humans and elves alike... and yet... her name has also been used to kill us and drive us from our home again and again. I hate to think that I'm being seen as her tool. What is to say someday my name might not be used the same way, against the very people I love. No one cares what I think now. Why would they care in the future, long after I died?"

"It's not easy when you suddenly have to speak for a whole lot of people, and yet no one listens to you," Hawke agreed. "Varric doesn't see you that way though. In all his letters to me, he's described you as a good person, not a symbol. That's something I hope."

"It is," she admitted before smiling. "Better than nothing. Thank you."

"So why haven't you just asked him out?" Hawke asked suddenly. "I'm sure he'd at least share a drink with you."

"Maybe," she admitted. "Now doesn't seem like a good time to be setting myself up for a fall though, with everything going on. Who knows? I could die tomorrow. I'm not sure I want to put myself through all of this for nothing."

"I can understand that," Hawke admitted. "Fenris doesn't know where I am either, actually for similar reasons. If he had known I was doing something so dangerous, he never would have left my side. He'd die to protect me. I didn't want to give him the chance. He thinks I'm off checking on Bethany with the other Wardens, and I convinced him to stay because there are so many slavers flooding Kirkwall right now, trying to take advantage of the chaos. It's luckily been keeping him busy. Hopefully he'll forgive me when I get back."

"Didn't you want him here with you though?" she asked.

"More than anything," Hawke confessed. "I couldn't though. There's too much danger here. I don't think he would have even let me come, certainly not without him. My name is very dangerous these days, and there are plenty who still blame me. He's safer elsewhere, away from this and me. Sometimes love means putting that person before your own needs. In fact, it means that a lot of the time."

"Well, you certainly do it with a certain grace," Ellana complimented. "If nothing else, what you've done has inspired the world to change, hopefully for the good."

#-#

As her body hit the hard rock of the fortress and she rolled out of the way of the rift, Ellana gasped in agony. It was certainly not the worst pain she had faced today, and she had a feeling she would be facing much worse soon enough. Forcing herself to get up, she panted before standing fully. The Anchor flared to life as she raised her hand and clenched it shut. The simple action had plenty of power behind it, closing the rift behind her. She watched as the battle suddenly stopped, demons falling to the ground in flares of green energy. The elf did not know if they were dead or simply banished, but it didn't matter. They were gone and the Inquisition was safe again.

The cost, however, made her feel sick.

"With the Nightmare banished, Corphyeus lost both his Warden Mages and his demon army. But in the stories your soldiers will tell, their Inquisitor broke the spell with the Maker's blessing," Stroud said with a smile as he clutched at his stomach. The calm settled over the battlefield after the cheering had died away, and the Dalish hunter turned mighty leader wanted to snap at Stroud. How could he say that? He knew the truth.

"Once I tell them what really happened-" she started before she was cut off.

"No. They need their stories. Let them believe and have faith," he said immediately, and a little loudly she noticed. Of course. The man wouldn't want anyone here to actually know this had never been divine providence, did he? No one here did. Faith in their almighty Maker would see them through and nothing else? Why not the actual facts?

She didn't argue though. Who here would actually listen? How often had she proclaimed to not even believe in the Maker, only to be seen as His tool wherever she went? There was no fighting it now, even with proof.

"Inquisitor!" one of the soldiers called as he ran up to where the rift had formally been. "The archdemon flew off as soon you disappeared. The Venatori magister is unconscious but alive. Cullen thought you might want to deal with him yourself. As for the Wardens, those that weren't corrupted helped fight against the demons."

A Warden walked up as well, holding his fist to his chest as a sign of respect.

"We stand ready to make up for Carel's tragic mistake," he offered.

"Wait..." Varric asked as he looked around. "Where's Hawke? She was right behind us."

Ellana swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut. She didn't want to answer. She didn't want to admit what she'd allowed to happen.

"Lavellan. Where's Hawke?" he urged.

"She... Varric, I am so sorry," she whispered. "She died. She stayed behind to fight the demon. She covered our escape."

"Varric," Cassandra said slowly. "I'm..."

He just shook his head and walked away, leaving the group behind.

"Varric!" Ellana cried, running after him. "Varric, please wait!"

"Inquisitor! What about the Wardens?!" Cassandra called after her, trying to grab the elf, but she'd already slipped past them in her pursuit of the dwarf.

"They stay! Give them a chance to make up for this!" she shouted after her shoulder, ignoring the sputtering disbelief that followed after her. She didn't care. She had to talk to Varric.

She caught up with him in one of the hallways, grabbing him by his shoulder. Nothing in it but torches and sand, Ellana had to talk to him now before anyone followed after her.

"Varric, I'm sorry," she insisted. "I swear, I never wanted this to happen. Please, please believe me. I didn't want her to stay. I didn't... I never..."

Varric slowly turned to her, and the elf slowly let go at the cold look in his eyes. It hurt to meet it, but she didn't feel she had the right to look away. His best friend was dead because of her, because the Inquisition had needed answers and help. Varric had only called her because they'd had so little information about Corphyeus and it had gotten her killed.

"I'm so... so sorry," she whispered, tears brimming in her black eyes. "I never wanted this. I never wanted any of this."

For a second he didn't say anything, just sighed softly and shook his head.

"Don't worry about it, Inquisitor," he said before leaving. She didn't have the courage to chase him down again, falling to her knees as she watched him go.

Soft steps walked up to her and she looked up to see Solas standing behind her. He had pity in his eyes and she hung her head in shame.

"May the Dread Wolf take me," she sighed. "This is all my fault."

"Serious words," he advised her. "Not ones that should be spoken lightly. You did the best you could."

She held her hand, the one the Anchor was attached to, now lying dormant and quiet just under her skin. The Dalish wanted to scream and cry at the same time. She was tired... so damn tired.

"No," she stated. "I didn't."

He sighed and offered his hand to her and while she was a little reluctant, she took it and let him help her up. It wouldn't do any good to feel sorry for herself on the floor. Still, if she could have gone back even an hour to change things... How could the Beyond have so many abilities to it, and yet there were still so many impossibilities to the world?

"I knew from the beginning there would be harsh moments. Every since you told me about the Orb, I knew I had to take this mantle. I have to be the leader they want, to keep them from blaming us," she sighed. "But..."

"You carry the weight of the world on you, lethallan," he spoke softly to her. "You must not allow it to crush you."

"I just wish I could have done more. We can still go back, still find her..."

Her expression changed immediately from pain to excitement at the idea, and she almost spun around to get back to the closed tear before his hand caught her. His grip was impossibly strong, stronger than what have should been for a simple hedge mage who was skinnier than even she was. She looked at him curiously and he quickly dropped his hand, but is was with a disapproving look.

"Going back would be foolhardy," he said to her. "You must not risk it. The demon is still there, remember? To go back now and risk so many men to save her would discredit her sacrifice, and would put many in danger for nothing."

"But what if she's still alive?" she protested. "Solas, I trust your council. I always have, but you can't be serious?"

"I am," he said. "We have no way to know if she is even alive."

"Then check," she suggested. "Dream. Go to the Beyond. If anyone could find out safely, you could."

"Yes, that is true..." he said slowly.

"Please, Solas. We have to try," she said, pleading softly with him.

He sighed before nodding.

"I must admit, I do not look forward to going back to that place, even in dreaming, but I will do as you ask," he said. "I must find a quiet place. Meet with Cassandra. She'll no doubt panic if you stay away too long, especially considering your... hasty decisions about the Wardens."

She wondered just how many people had she made mad with her about the Grey Wardens. Odd how everyone wanted to her to lead this Inquisition, yet every single person she knew had to pick at almost every one of her decisions.

Shaking her head, she made her way to the group. It was best to cement the decisions of what was going to happen. Maybe plenty of people would be mad at her about letting the Wardens stay, especially considering what they knew now, but it was a decision she would stand by. The Blights were a threat and they would continue to be for who knew how long. She was not about to send every single one of them away because of the actions of a single group.

She found it a bad sign that there was already arguing when she returned. Great. Just great.

"Alright, enough," she said, walking up to where Cassandra was yelling at Stroud. "No more of this. I already said they would stay. There's plenty for them to do after all."

"But the false Calling," she protested.

"Defeating the Nightmare should have taken care of that, if that spirit of faith was right," the elf replied.

"And their other crimes?" she asked.

"Are not to be mentioned," Ellana decided.

"What?! You can not be serious! They killed-"

"I said we are not to talk about it!" she snapped. "If we are not going to tell the truth about how I was involved, then we will keep quiet about how this all started! Do you understand me? You get to keep your faith and I get to keep the Wardens! There was maybe five of them in that room when it happened! You will actually tell me it is better to send every single one of them away because of the mistakes made by so few! Shall our future generations know it is your voice that would doom them all when the next old god is awoken and there is no one to stop it?!"

The Seeker stared hard at her for a second, but Ellana did not back down. Eventually, the human woman threw up her hands in frustration and surrender.

"Fine," she said as she gave in. "No one will hear it from me."

"Thank you, Cassandra," she said, truly meaning it. At least another one of her friends weren't storming away from her.

The cleaning up would take weeks, but until the Inquisition pulled out its forces they helped out. There was so much to do, funeral pyres to build and the lost ones on both sides had to be seen to. After meeting with Cullen to secure the details on their prisoner, she made her way to the one of the towers. She needed quiet for a little while, just space to get away from it all.

They'd all faced bad missions before, but this one had been the worst. There had been no bright side to this, no way to save the day, not really. So many of her soldiers had died for this, when she should have just been able to talk to them and persuade them to stop. The Grey Wardens were guilty for what they had done, but how could she actually make them go away? It was all so wrong in so many ways, and she didn't know how to balance it this time.

She'd gone with her instinct so often, and she could only hope this time would be safe to do so too.

Her Keeper had told her that going to the Conclave would affect everything, but she had to wonder how true that was now. Just like the Shemlens, she'd believed it was her own gods that had put her forth on this path. She was a way to show them all that Dalish were needed, that all elves period were still needed. It had all been an accident though. Nothing more than a damn accident. Anyone could have run into that room to save the Divine. She could have just as easily died. Had any of this actually happened for a reason?

"I'm so lost," she breathed. "What do I do now?"

There was no answer, not that she'd been expecting one. It was hours before she was joined by anything at all except for the blowing wind. She looked up to see Solas standing at the entryway, looking grim. For a split second she felt hopeful until he frowned and shook his head silently.

"Of course," she said softly. "I shouldn't have expected anything else."

"I'm so sorry," he said to her.

"I know, Solas. Thank you for trying," she said before she crossed her arms. "Come on. They'll be wondering where we are. It's time to go. There's no reason to stay now."

"As you say, lethallan," he agreed before following her down out of the tower.

#-#

It took too long to get back to Varric, and Ellana hated it. When they'd gotten back to Skyhold, the very first thing she'd wanted to do was say she was sorry. There had been decisions to make, what to do with the Wardens, where the next war efforts should go, and how to handle Erimond.

It was days later before she even saw him, staring into the fireplace and clearly in pain.

Before she could even say anything, he began to talk. Clearly he already knew she was there without her announcing herself.

"Did I ever tell you about the time that Hawke was on the Merchant Guild hit list?" he asked her.

"Oh... uh, no. You haven't," she said softly.

"Hawke's uncle got into an investment scheme with a couple of Merchant Caste business men," he told her as he walked closer to her. "They took a lot of people's coin in order to arrange import of wandering hills from the Anderfels. A delicacy, I'm told. Their weird, foreign food stuff arrived alive and one of them, true to their names, wandered off in the middle of the night."

She couldn't bare it and suddenly threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. She couldn't do anything else. Any words she said would be insignificant and she hated herself for it. Since this had all began, she'd found herself fascinated by Varric. She loved the stories he told, so different from the ones she'd heard of her own clan that was all history and lessons. All of his were so outlandish and impossible, but he told them so happily she loved them anyway. Even today she would still read his tale of the champion, the book old and beaten when she'd bought it from traders, in even worse shape now since she'd read the dwarf's words so often. Now he was telling this tale in sorrow and it hurt so much to know she'd done this to him.

"Shit..." he breathed and she forced herself to let him go. It was hard to tell if she'd helped or made it worse, but she hoped desperately it was the first. He said nothing else for a moment, and she waited for him to continue at his own pace.

"The Guild... traced the shipment back to her uncle, but as usual he was so deep in debt he couldn't see daylight. So, they went after Hawke. They sent guys from the local Carta to Hawke's estate one night, five big dusters, all armed to the teeth. They were about to kick down the door when she just opened it up and invited them all inside. Leandra, Hawke's mother, made them tea and for the next two hours tried to get them to make small talk. They wandered out of the house in a daze, never came back. Hawke just... had that effect on people."

He gave a small chuckle before shaking his head and his smile faded as quickly as it had come.

"I always wanted to tell that one," he said to her. "Thanks."

He really shouldn't be thanking her, all things considered, but she didn't have it in her to say so.

"I guess I've got some letters to write. I should be the one to tell Fenris. Excuse me," he said.

"Varric," she threw out before he could leave again. She'd seen him walk away too often and she had to do something before it happened again. "I... She wasn't Dalish, but we have a tradition when someone... passes. We find a clearing and we plant a seed in their name, over their graves. It's a bit like returning them to the Stone... sort of. It's supposed to symbolize rebirth and how life will always go on. Since we became wanderers we've become very attune to nature after all. If you like... I could do so for her even though she doesn't have a grave. If... if I have the right. I understand if you think that-"

"Inquisitor, I know you blame yourself," he said, cutting her off. "I didn't exactly act like you all that understanding about it back then either. I was upset back then, angry. I'm still upset... but I'm not angry anymore. You did what you could. Not everyone makes it out. That's the thing about stories like this. They're no good for heroes. You remember what I said back when Cassandra and I argued?"

"Which time?" she asked. There had been several cases after all.

"When she was mad that I knew where Hawke was the whole time," he explained. "She wanted Hawke to have been there at the Conclave, to become the Inquisitor."

"You said we already had one," she whispered.

"Yeah. We do, and you're a damn fine one," Varric said. "You are trying and I can see that. It's not going to be easy to keep going, to lose what we hold dear. It's why I lied about her so long, to keep her safe. Hawke though... she was always the type to try to help people. Circumstances tried to crush her so many times and she fought against it over and over. She ran from Kirkwall to avoid an Exalted March, not because she was afraid. I look at you and I know you're the same. You're trying to save others. That's what matters. Hawke wouldn't have let you die for her, not in a million years. Give yourself the benefit of the doubt. Maybe it was worth it."

"I... Oh Varric," she whispered. She felt so grateful, hearing his forgiveness. "I'm sorry. Thank you. I didn't want this. Knowing you know that, I... I can't..."

"I know," he said, patting her on the arm.

This time, she let him walk away. He didn't know, not really. How could he, when she'd spent this whole time hiding her feelings from him?

Ellana had loved before, being free with her heart amongst her clan. She'd let herself care, and she knew how it felt when someone fell in love. Though she had never intended to develop feelings for the dwarf, they'd come all the same. Her fascination of his stories had only been the start, and it had grown so intense over time.

There had been plenty of reasons not to tell him, first and foremost being the war against Corypheus, but there had been other reasons as well. She didn't have to ask who Bianca was, the way he was so careful with his crossbow, how he seemed to adore it, telling her the story all on its own. Whatever the circumstances, there was another woman somewhere and her advances would not be appreciated so she stood back and refused to mention it. There had probably never been a chance, but she'd still been unable to let go.

Now... now she'd allowed his best friend in the world to die. It was a poor, poor way to treat someone she cared about, to say nothing of the fact a good woman had died because of her.

She couldn't help but wonder how long that woman's death would haunt her. She knew little of Hawke. They'd spent some time talking, but not as much as she would have liked. Now she'd never know the woman as she'd really wished to.

#-#

It was a thing of absolute beauty, the Well of Sorrows. Ellana could not stop staring at it. So much had happened, so much had led up to this. She could feel it calling to her, promises of answers to all the questions she could possibly ever think up. So many things the people didn't know. All of it was here, waiting to be taken.  
She could be the servant of Mythal, a deeper honor she had never even heard of. How anyone could see that as a price to pay and not a well deserved reward was beyond her. Even Solas seemed unwilling, but he had always been confusing when it concerned history of the elves. He said no one listened when he tried to tell him the truth, and yet there was so much truth here to be heard. How could he not want that?

A whole lifetime wouldn't be enough to hear everything this well could teach her, and she felt nervous even as she looked at it. Part of her felt unworthy. She was no Keeper, and she had never been trained for something like this. There had to be Dalish out there that were better for such a task, but she knew she was the only one here that truly wanted it for more than just the power it would bring.

"I'll drink of it," she decided, even as Morrigan glared at her.

"So you will take what little you can understand, and let the rest go to waste?" she spat.

"Who says it will go to waste?" Ellana asked.

"I do."

"Too bad, since it's not your choice," she shot back. She didn't trust this woman. She was too eager for power, and she wasn't respectful of any of this. This witch stood in the temple of Mythal and showed no respect, no caring, and would have torn through everyone here to get at this water. Ellana would die before she let that happen.

"I am forever balked by those that believe they know better than I," Morrigan muttered. "Very well, Inquisitor. Drink if you will, for the sake of us all, but steel your will to do it."

She knew the witch didn't believe she could handle it, and maybe Ellana couldn't. Maybe this would overwhelm her, but after everything that had happened, she knew she had to try. After so often hearing herself called the Herald, she wanted to let her soul belong to someone who she actually believed in. This could help her, help all her people even after Corypheus. It was worth anything.

As she walked into the water, she could feel it whispering to her now. It was outside, but something told her that would not be the case for long. Soon, very soon, they would be joined with her. It would be a part of her just as much as the Anchor was but this time it was her choice.

The water slipped down her throat as she drank, and her mind exploded.

She could barely make out all the voices, whispering to her, over her own thoughts. She felt the pull of them, ripping her away from the world. It was impossible to understand all the words, spoken to her in a language she had always yearned for but never knew. They filled her and drove everything else away.

"Why am I here?" she asked as it pushed into her mind. Words she never knew slowly made their way into her mind, blooming into understanding like flowers in the rising sun. It was painful and beautiful, ripping her apart but giving her so much even as it seemed it would drown her.

"I need a way to defeat Corypheus. He's a magister trying to become a god," she explained frantically. "He's trying to rip the Veil open. I need a way to stop him."  
More whispers, something sinking into her skin and mind, but lingering. Asking her if she understood what she was consenting to.

"Take whatever price you wish," she said, more sure of this moment than she had been of anything in her entire life. "I'm ready to be Mythal's forever."

It filled her, piercing into her mind and she cried out, but not in agony. For a brief second, a single sliver of time, she felt everything. It all made sense and her piece fell into place behind those that had come before her. Then she fell to the floor and knew no more.

#-#

Frivolity could have its effect on people, no matter how dour things would get, Ellana could not deny that. Somehow, no matter how bad things got, everyone could take a moment when it was all over and celebrate. The party raging all over Skyhold, maybe all over Thedas, was proof of that if nothing else.

She smiled softly as she looked out over the sun rise. It was already in the morning, and it felt right. Things were finally the way they should be.

Of course, people were already talking about leaving. It was the way of things, but she'd miss them all terribly. Maybe even Sera even though they'd never gotten on well. Still, she was glad to have known every single one of them, especially Varric. They'd lost something between them when Hawke had died, whatever she might have hoped for gone. The few times he'd called her by name had ended the second she'd left Hawke behind, and she knew now nothing would ever be between them. Not that she'd ever had the courage to tell him, especially since that awful meeting with Bianca only cementing in the elf's heart that she'd never had a chance.

Still, she'd strive on. Everyone had their own life to get back to, herself included. There were so many dignitaries that wanted to meet her, if Leliana spoke truly, but she didn't think she shared the sentiment. It was time to go home, at least for a while. She didn't think her clan would be safe with her around but she had to say goodbye and of course tell them of her discoveries. She carried something with her, something ancient and powerful, but she had truth to her now too. The anchor in her hand... and marked for all eternity as Mythal's servant. It would all be put to good use.

Somehow, she'd spread this truth she was herself slowly starting to learn. There was still so much she didn't know, but there was a real chance to learn now. The Dalish would know someday, and she be the one who would tell them. If it took the rest of her life traveling, she would share it all with any clan that wanted to hear.  
The bed called her and looked beyond welcoming. She went to it gladly to sink down into the mattress and her head hit the pillow. More than anything she just wanted to sleep.

Her eyelids fluttered closed and a soft sigh escaped her lips before she fell asleep. Her mind drifted off, all going quiet. Even the loud party downstairs, getting more wild as it went on with the music and alcohol, could not reach her. It felt like a cloud passed over her and all was peaceful for that moment.

Until the screaming started.

Her eyes shot open as a scream tore through her own throat, similar to the ones she heard in her very mind. She jumped forward, but didn't get far, falling to the floor and clutching at her head as pain exploded in every nerve of her body. Words yelled at her, some she didn't understand, some she knew all too well.

Whispers had all been what she'd heard before when she'd drank of the Well of Sorrows. It was all she'd ever experienced, and most of the time it was so quiet when they had nothing to say. Now though... she couldn't think. She couldn't...

"Inquisitor!" someone screamed as there was a pounding on her door that she'd locked for privacy. Sounded like Cullen... or Cassandra? It was impossible to tell.

Arms jerked her up, and she heard babbling, but it made no sense to her ears, flooded with her ancient language. It was all too loud to hear anything else.

"Pain. Shouting. Won't stop. The trees dying, falling. Glass shattered. Something borrowed. Something blue."

"Cole! That's enough! Let her go!"

Ellana screamed again, burying her head into the chest of the spirit holding her. All of a sudden it stopped and tears streamed down her cheeks, over her vallaslin and made her face wet.

"Did... you stop it?" she breathed. Her head felt like it was splitting open, but the spirit of compassion only shook his head.

"I heard it. So loud. It stopped on its own. Don't know why," he breathed, and she did not know if he was still saying her thoughts or was answering her question.

"Inquisitor? What's wrong? What happened?" Cullen asked. It had been his voice at the door after all, and she noticed her door's hinges were broken, no doubt kicked open.

For a second, she didn't say anything. The pain of the voices had been so intense, like a shock of electricity through her. They had not stopped, not truly, but they were much quieter now. There was a faint hum, soft and solemn, so many formed into one and yet all separate. Singing... such sad notes, and she felt the almost undeniable urge to sing their mournful dirge with them.

Ellana, like all of her clan, like all elves, knew so little of her lost language. Every word was sacred to them, a fight to remember what once was. She wished she knew more, especially now, but it wasn't truly needed.

She knew what they'd said, understood enough for it all to make sense. Even if it hadn't, her heart seemed to understand what could never be expressed into words.

"Mythal..." she sobbed, shaking her head against Cole's chest and she desperately sought comfort. "She's dead."

End of Chapter 3

Considering that Flemeth died at the end and Solas gained godhood from her, I would have figured someone should have noticed. Either the Inquisitor or Morrigan, her own daughter, drank from the Well of Sorrows and yet not word from either of them? I'll grant the game that it cut off from both of them before the final scene happened, but I was still sitting there asking, "Then what happened?!"

Inquisition easily leaves a lot more questions open than it answers, that's for damn sure.

The Well of Sorrows makes either of them an eternal thrall to the woman, linked to her and those elves before that promised to serve her forever. It's something that just can't be ignored. I would like to think it's something that will come up again, instead of an overly fancy way to give someone the power of a dragon for a grand total of one fight and nothing else.

In either case, I do so hope that you enjoyed this chapter and will review. Comments are always welcome and helpful, trust me.


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